


Corinthians 3:16

by Persipnei



Series: 3:16 [1]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bland description of sex, Cringey Lyrics, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, We do not comment on that, We do not comment on that either for the sake of the author's self-esteem, not really but go off i guess., rival bands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 06:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18383141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persipnei/pseuds/Persipnei
Summary: “People have been speculating about the relationship between you and Snafu...”“What relationship? We never even met.” Eugene snorted. “He's not my enemy, if that's what you are trying to imply.”“Not your enemy, no! Maybe you two had a fling. Maybe that's why he wrote you a song.”Eugene stopped walking and his eyes widened behind his sunglasses. “Excuse me. A what?”“A fling.” the reporter repeated.ORSnafu and Eugene are in different bands. Snafu is thirsty and Eugene is not super happy.





	Corinthians 3:16

**Author's Note:**

> So!!! 
> 
> A few of days ago, I had this [terrible and horrible idea](https://persipneiwrites.tumblr.com/post/183831937648/i-am-human-and-because-i-am-human-i-have-too) and I decided to delay the new chapter of Poor Unfornatunate Souls a week so I could write this garbage. I don’t know what to tell you. I made a mistake. And so are you by reading this. It’s the most stupid love story ever. Well. The beginning of one. Like. Snafu? Bad at flirting. Eugene? Thinks he is so hard to get and not really. 
> 
> Try to enjoy this mess, IDK!!!

**APRIL, 2016**

It all started with a radio interview.

“It's George Luz joined in the studio by... I would say one of the most charismatic singers of the moment.” a doubtful hum as an interruption. “Wouldn't you agree? Aren't you charismatic?”

“Sure, I'd feel way more flattered if you said _talented_ , though.”

“Talented, as well.” George nodded. “Some of you might have recognized his voice already. Merriell Shelton, welcome.” yet another hum as an answer. “That correct? Or you'd rather be called Snafu? Which one should we use?”

“Snafu works just fine, Luz.” the singer replied as he fixed the headphones one last time, leaning back against his chair.

“Want to start with that? The origin of the nickname?” the host asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ain't that much to explain, y'know? Burgie, my guitarist, ever since he met me he said I was a walkin' disaster.” he shrugged. “He went to a military school. That explains a lot about him. Who the fuck would want to get married months _after_ you join a rock band? That boy is the crazy one.”

“I guess I'll have to believe you, since you came here all by yourself.”

“Yeah, they don't wanna make interviews with me anymore.”

“Really? How so?”

“Turns out I say awful shit and I get them into trouble.” Snafu answered before he slipped his fingers inside of his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “They don't wanna deal with it anymore, so.” he hummed before he put the cigarette between his lips. “Can I smoke in here?”

“Technically? No.”

“Smoke bothers you, Luz?”

He denied: “I'm a smoker too.”

“Let loose then.” he finally light the cigarette and took a long drag. “What you wanna talk about?”

“I heard you were quite a complicated person to interview.” he tried to start once again.

“Yeah? Why?”

“You are quite distracting.”

“I often think that the questions I'm asked are stupid. So I get distracted.”

“What kind of questions are stupid, to you?”

“How we started. Or _why_ we started. Why do you think four guys in their early twenties start a band? To avoid getting a 9 to 5 job and to fuck as much as possible.” he turned his head away from the mic and exhaled the smoke. “It's also pretty stupid to ask me about my nickname, but. I like you, Luz. Gonna behave.”

“I'll take it as _constructive criticism_.”

“That's a way to see it.”

“That was your intention, then? Hopefully get famous and irresistible?”

“Famous, only. I was _already_ irresistible when I lived in the bayou.”

“What about sending a message? Making art?”

“Well, I don't feel like that's possible anymore, Luz. Not when we are tryin' to get on each other's necks all the fuckin' time.”

“What do you mean with that?”

“The music industry ain't a lovely place, y'know?” he played with his cigarette. “You should be able to say whatever the fuck you want. Sing about anythin' at all. Doesn't fuckin' help that some bands are tryin' to wrap their songs with lovely words and puritanism concealed as being _poetic_ or whatever they wanna call it.”

“Maybe it's just their style?”

“It's fuckin' _boring_.” Snafu cut him right away. “It's the 21th century. We should be allowed to say _cock_. We should be allowed to say _pussy_. To say _fuck_. Don't you think?”

“The thing is that we are live, and you shouldn't be saying those, right now.”

“Too fuckin' bad, I ain't gonna stop.”

Luz tilted his head to the side and nodded. Yeah, quite fucking impossible to interview.

“You are talking about a certain trend? Or a band, in particular?”

“Sure am.”

There is where it gets worse.

“Which one?”

“ _The Old Breed_.”

“You don't like The Old Breed?” Luz sounded surprised.

And maybe that's what pushed Snafu to keep talking. “What there's to like about them? I mean. Leckie is a great fuckin' drummer. Loved him in _H.O.W._ And, actually, _Dear Vera_ was the best album they made and one of my favourites, _ever_. Then, they split and nothin' good came out of that.”

“The Old Breed are pretty successful. Their last album is quite refreshing. Don't you agree?”

“Which is their last album?”

“ _House of Glass_.”

“No clue. The singles?”

“There's... _Sparrow_ , _Pantheon_ , _Green Ghost_ , _Sunday_... _Sunday_ was pretty good.”

Snafu pressed his lips, looking up trying to remember. He began to hum the melody of the song, nodding. “Yeah, okay. _Sunday_ was pretty good. But one good song in one album?”

“ _Two_.”

“In two albums? Truly not good enough to stick around.”

“They are pretty successful, though.” Luz tried to insist. He couldn't close the door to future guests because a cocky singer felt like ranting.

“They can't just rely on Leckie's talent.”

“Eugene Sledge is a very good singer.”

“Yeah, how come you say he is good and I am charismatic? Fuck, Luz, you are biased as Hell.”

“I'm just saying! He is a good singer!” he chuckled.

“Sledge pretends to be your dreamy guy from Alabama. Too classy, too good. He censors himself. He can't possibly be _that_ mystic all the time.” surely he sounded like he heard about the band far more than he was willing to admit. Snafu filled his lungs with smoke one last time. “Damn, if you wanna say _fuck_ , say it. I would do it. I do, in fact. I wouldn't blush or stutter if I said that I wanted to fuck Sledge. I would just say it. _I want to fuck Sledge_. Ain't _that_ hard, huh?”

“I don't think he will appreciate those words.” Luz said after a few seconds of silence, running out of ideas which was a pretty damn impossible thing to happen.

“Who cares? My point is. 70% of that band is Leckie's talent. 30% Sledge's pretty looks.”

“What about Sid Phillips?”

“... _Who_?”

Eddie finally stopped the video and looked at them. “So... This is our situation.”

The three members of The Old Breed could barely say a word. They all got a little something from Snafu. Brutal criticism, an indecent proposal or pure indifference.

Sid was the first one to whisper: “What a fucking bastard. _I_ was in H.O.W. _too_!”

“You were in H.O.W. for six months before we split up, Johnny Reb.” Leckie grinned and stretched his legs, making himself comfortable. “That's all?”

“I thought it was relevant enough for you to see it.” Eddie added. He tried his best to be a good manager. It wasn't always _easy_.

“I can't possibly deny anything he said. I'm _that_ great and _Dear Vera_ was the best album I ever made.” there was obvious arrogance in his voice.

“Yeah, too bad she broke up with you and you stopped being good.” Sid huffed, still quite bothered that he had been reduced to nothing when he was part of the band like the other two were. “What an asshole. What a dickhead. What a complete and utter fucking _bitch_.” he kept cursing under his breath.

Leckie messed Sid's hair and tilted his head back. “You okay, Eugene?” he asked.

The redhead was quiet. More than usual. He had his fingers laced together, holding his left knee. His legs perfectly crossed; his back was not even touching the chair anymore. He squinted a little bit and blinked, slow, before he looked at the other two from the corner of his eyes. “ _Perfect_.”

Eugene was the perfectly composed boy. But this couldn't be good. He was seconds away from snapping. They all could see that, but it was Eddie who dared to ask once again: “Are you sure? I could make sure to call his manager. Ask him to apologize?”

It took him a couple of seconds to answer once again: “No. Ask him to apologize would imply that it offended me. It didn't. It's not true.” he didn't only have his looks to offer. He wasn't even good-looking. There were far more beautiful people in the industry that _truly_ took advantage of that. Because they _could_. Eugene, with his big nose and his plain clothes, could not be considered a sex symbol.

“No. I mean... We know it's not true. But about what he said... Earlier? That was a bit too much.” Eddie tried to be as casual as possible. And while the _I want to fuck Sledge_ was an example, it sure caught the interest and attention of the press.

“I say we forget about this and carry on.” Eugene denied and finally turned his head, looking away from the frozen picture of a confused Snafu because he really had no clue who Sid was. _Disrespectful_. He looked at his bandmates. “Is that okay with you?”

“Snafu is an asshole. It's not even that he is trying to be rude. He just is. He is truly not that awful when you get used to him.” Leckie waved his hand. Surely he got the best part and it also helped the fact that he knew him for a few years.

“I want a public apology and I want him to acknowledge the fact that he heard about me.” Sid was not going to let it go so easily.

“Oh, don't be ridiculous!” Eugene huffed as he stood up from the chair. “Are we done?”

“Sure thing, diva.” Sid snorted, still visibly bitter about this whole issue.

Eugene flicked Sid's ear before he left the office and headed back to the studio. As soon as he was alone, he crossed his arms and sulked. His whole face felt warm and he hated the fact that the words were still dancing inside of his brain. _I want to fuck Sledge_. Who says that? Even as an example? Who the actual _Hell_ says that? He just wanted a reaction from him. He wanted some attention and for Eugene to start some feud with him. Well. It was not going to happen. He was far above petty fights. He didn't want to ruin his reputation because Snafu —the nickname says everything!— felt like being nasty that morning.

 

But it still _bothered_ him. A big deal. Eugene was not arrogant. He knew that four years in this business was _nothing_. And their last album, the second they released, was the one that truly brought them some _fame_. They were doing good. Their singles got quite high in the charts. _Sunday_ became number one and that was a thrill. And yet, it was so easy for someone to say that Leckie was the one with the talent. Leckie who has been a professional musician for thirteen year from whom Eugene learned plenty. _Still_ was. But Snafu's words were so dismissive. Like Eugene didn't spend hours singing with his vocal coach. Or like he didn't write and rewrite his lyrics until they were perfect. Like he didn't play the guitar until his fingertips hurt. Like they were not going to last. Like Leckie would have to find something better because they were _dead weight_.

Eugene grabbed his earphones and watched the video of Snafu's interview once again, to dwell in his frustration.

He shouldn't do that. As soon as he saw his heavy eyelids and his careless attitude, Eugene got angrier. How could he allow himself to talk such shit about someone he didn't know just for the sake of it? Because he was not happy with the fact that he didn't curse in his songs? There was literally no need. And he didn't want to sing words like fuck, cock or pussy. Was that a crime? Was that much big of a deal? Eugene was not telling him what he couldn't sing. Why should he tell him what he had to?

_What a bunch of bullshit!_

Eugene huffed and kept ignoring the Twitter notifications that had been popping up since early this morning. Sometimes he really regretted making an account. Everybody felt like they could talk about it, make it a bigger deal than maybe it was and not letting him forget that this never happened —when he would cool down, of course.

And then, he stopped for a second.

If Twitter was meant for you to share your piece of mind, why couldn't he? Eugene was not thinking too clearly. Snafu easily managed to break that serenity of his with a video that lasted less than two minutes.

He opened the app in his phone and Twitter, always polite —before you start digging any deeper—, asked: _What's happening?_

What happened was that an asshole felt like publicly shaming him for no other reason than not liking Eugene keeping his lyrics _clean_.

His fingers moved quickly over the screen of his phone, typing fourteen words, not needing more than that. Then he pressed tweet and read what he just posted.

 **@eugenesledge** tweeted: _Not all of us need to make fun of others to get some attention_.

 _There_. He's done with this.

He is not going to ever waste more time with this.

*** * ***

He was _wrong_.

During lunch, Eugene sat down with Sid and Leckie while they ate their meal. He was playing with his food a little bit, his mind was somewhere else. Maybe in that radio studio where Snafu absolutely destroyed his worth and dared to say that hideous sentence out loud. At some point he felt Leckie's big palm over his back before he squeezed his shoulder. Eugene only shrugged a little bit before he tried to catch up with Sid's conversation. He was talking about Mary. As usual. And Eugene was not listening because he was tired of being tortured.

Eugene checked his phone just to have an excuse to not make eye contact with Sid. _Terrible mistake_. He had plenty of notifications. And he decided to go through them, briefly, to make sure that people agreed with him and so he could keep licking his wounds.

But then he regretted even checking his phone.

 **@snaf_ck** started following you.

 **@snaf_ck** replied to your tweet: _just say fuck, coward_.

The singer blinked a couple of times and parted his lips. _Excuse me?_

He locked his phone and frowned, looking at Leckie, like was the one to blame. The older man gave him a puzzled look and before he had time to ask what happened, Eugene unlocked his phone once again and checked the notification. Did he _really_?

Eugene decided to make sure that was Snafu's real account. So he quickly went to his profile and saw that the account was _verified_. Now that's just great, isn't it?

The picture was the detail of his mouth smoking a cigarette. Because God forbid if anyone ever forgot he was such a _bad boy_! He smokes all the time and he reduced his bio information to a skull emoji because he is so unique. He is _badass_ like that.

What a fucking _asshole_.

After refusing to look at the notes, retweets and likes that stupid little thing had —it would be way too hard for him to not take it as a personal attack and see them as people who _despised_ him—, Eugene decided to _not_ block him. He was not going to let him think that anything he could do bothered him in the slightest. He was above this. He was not going become part of this drama. Nor he is going to delete his tweet. He said what he said and he didn't regret it.

Eugene forced himself to keep eating.

*** * ***

Snafu wouldn't _stop_.

It's been less than ten hours since he followed him and it was insane the amount of notifications he got because of him. Eugene was not the kind to constantly obsess about social media. He only used it as a way to post relevant information for those who enjoyed their music. He didn't usually have anything to say and if he did, he kept it for himself. And he broke his own rule just because Snafu managed to anger him without even knowing him.

Because that's a whole other thing: they _never_ met.

And Snafu still bullied him over the Internet. He must be very bored or he truly hated his music. Or he was desperate for some attention, why tweet such things, if not? The last two were enough to make Eugene huff and be awfully close to block him.

 **@snaf_ck** tweeted: _when i think about the old breed, i think about stale bread. why would you even @eugenesledge ??_

 **@snaf_ck** tweeted: _@eugenesledge what do you call your fans? breeders????_

They got no answer from him. And whatever that came after those stupid tweets, Eugene was not even going to read them. He had enough.

The next morning, Leckie said: “You made a mistake.”

Eugene was resting his head against the window of the car. He blinked and hummed, letting him know that he was paying attention. That he was not falling asleep when he clearly was. As soon as Eugene sat down in any sort of vehicle, he was out. Maybe it had been quite wise of him to never even bother to get his driving license.

“I follow Snafu on Twitter, you know?” he continued with his naughty smirk.

 _Fuck_.

“I didn't say _anything_. It's him who won't stop.” that sounded pretty childish, but it was the truth.

“What happens?” Sid asked from the passenger seat.

Eddie checked the other two through the rear-view mirror. He was their manager but also, far too often, their _nanny_. If they fuck it up, he had to fix the mess. “Something I should be aware of?” it's always better to tell him. No matter how embarrassing. No matter if Leckie got caught in a club with a girl on one arm and a guy on the other, wasted as he could be. No matter if Sid lost his temper in a Burger King because he just wanted to get a Double Whopper and people wouldn't stop taking pictures of him. No matter if Eugene... Well. This was the first scandal —sort of **—** he became part of. _Unwillingly_.

“I tweeted something, yesterday.” he confessed.

“Oh, no.” Eddie sighed. Twitter: the easiest way to end your career.

“No, but it was not offensive or anything!” Eugene rushed to add. “Look.” he pulled his phone out and showed him his account and the evidence of his crime.

Eddie took his phone and read it as soon as he stopped at a red light. “Okay. Sounds logical to me.” he sounded relieved. Like he didn't disappoint him. Eugene was the golden boy and he planned on keeping that role until the very end. To let Eddie down would be too much on him. “But this can't be all, right?”

“From my part? Yes.” Eugene replied.

“Not from Snafu's.” Leckie continued, acting like a _snitch_. That was usually Sid's role! “He's been tweeting Eugene since yesterday.”

“What kind of things?” he returned Eugene his phone as he kept driving.

“He spoke about stale bread.” Eugene shrugged, like it didn't bother him. _Lying_.

“And breeders.” Leckie hummed, far too amused with this.

Sid furrowed his nose. “Some of these are really not _that_ cute.” but he quickly grabbed his own phone to read all those cursed tweets. “I am sorry to inform you that he wrote five tweets about your waist.”

“My waist?” Eugene frowned. “What's wrong with my waist, now?” he missed those. Did Snafu spend the whole night tweeting about him, or something? This was getting a little weird.

“Apparently, it's _tiny_.” Sid shrugged.

“It's normal!” and Snafu said that? The same guy who was skinny as he could be? And quite fucking short, too?

“You are rather lanky, Eugene.” Leckie added, truly not helping at all.

“So what? I'm a singer, not a model. My waist has nothing to do with anything I do!” he got a little exasperated. This was frustrating and unfair and Snafu was a dickhead. “I want to buy his albums.” Eugene said, suddenly.

“...Why?” Sid voiced everybody's confusion.

“I want to see if he's any good. If he is messing with me and my looks and because he feels he can't compete with me, vocally.” because Snafu hasn't said anything about Eugene's singing skills. He only talked shit about the fact that he won't add curses to his lyrics. “Or because he feels so superior that he can even take this beyond the music.”

“That doesn't make any sense.” Sid insisted a little bit. “And you are about to get obsessed with this.” Sid knew him enough to recognize the patterns of Eugene's behaviour. He has known him for _decades_.

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I'm not! I want to buy his albums!” Leckie rolled his eyes and Sid decided let it go. “Eddie!” the manager sighed long and tired before he asked his phone to try to find the nearest record shop.

*** * ***

Eugene entered inside of the store with a sour look his face partially hidden by his sunglasses and with _Chasing The Pacific_ 's official website on his phone. He made fun of his band's name and his was truly not any better. _Full offense_. Eugene went to the discography, not giving a damn about their pictures, merchandising or biography. Turns out they released six albums during the eleven years they've been playing.

Not too bad.

Let's see how many of them are truly good and not simply obscene for the shock value.

He found the latest one rather easily: _YOURS_ , released in May 2015. He heard a couple of songs from this one. They were really not Eugene's style, but... rather good. They had a good guitarist —Burgie, right? Snafu mentioned him in his interview—, the riffs were catchy. Not memorable but _good_.

He also found _GRIS-GRIS_ , published in March 2013 and _BABY BABY BABY_ , released in June 2012. Maybe that last one didn't do too great. Why the need to release another album within less than a year? If Eugene had been a fan, or would simply turn the CD to check the track list, he would see that _GRIS-GRIS_ was a tribute to Snafu's cajun roots. All the songs had been sung in French and was far more similar to Blues than Rock music.

He tried to find the other three, but it was impossible. So he decided that focusing on those would be enough. Eugene headed towards the cashier. The young boy quickly became rigid and brushed his plaid shirt, waiting. Eugene smiled a bit and removed his sunglasses, leaving the three CDs over the counter.

“Hi.” he said. His mother raised him better than to become a cocky celebrity. And if he had to be brutally honest, he was not _that_ famous. But if he had to be recognized somewhere, then it was always better for that thing to happen in a record shop, right? “These three, please. Don't think you have the ones I'm missing, right?”

The boy quickly denied. “No. No, I don't. It's a pity. _#FFF_ is really good.”

“That's really how it's called? _Effeffeff_?” he was not impressed.

“Some people call it _White_.” Oh, of course. That's _so_ imaginative! “They never specified and used both.”

And Snafu bitched about him not talking clearly. _He was full of shit_. Eugene rolled his eyes and offered the boy a few bills to pay for those.

“You should check it out. In my opinion, it's the best one they ever made.” People say that _so often_. Even Eugene could tell, even if he has been four years in this business and only released two albums.

“I'll make sure to find it.” YouTube would have to be enough. He was not giving them more money. He was done respecting the industry when no one was respecting him all that much.

Before Eugene could put his sunglasses back on, the young boy said: “I'm... I'm a fan. Could we take a picture?” he was quite a professional. First he does his part as a chashier and then, if so, asks for a picture as a fan. Eugene couldn't possibly say no. He let the sunglasses hang from the collar of his shirt and nodded, smiling.

*** * ***

“We _all_ told you it was a bad idea.” Sid sounded cocky and bitchy as he kept munching.

“Shut up.” Eugene hissed.

Eddie was holding Eugene's phone once again. This was the second lunch Snafu ruined in a row.

It was his fault to a certain extent.

The young cashier ended up betraying Eugene. Turns out that the boy took pictures of him while he picked the albums and then published those and the one he took with him. And, okay. He could understand that. If you meet one of your favourite musicians, you want to be able to brag a little bit. So he couldn't get mad at _that_.

But he was a little mad at those people who noticed which albums he bought. And he had no right, but he was.

Of course. He was far angrier at Snafu.

 **@snaf_ck** tweeted: _i knew u were a fan, @eugenesledge, i'll sing those for u, boo xoxo_

He couldn't catch a break. And it was only _Wednesday_!

Eugene licked his lips and shifted closer to Eddie, glued to his side and silently begging to fix that for him even if he had been the one who almost threw a tantrum because he wanted to find out if Snafu was a better singer than he was.

“Okay, this is what are we going to do.” Eddie began. They all listened to him. “Tomorrow, you have an interview. Be calm about it. Leckie, you know what you have to say.”

“ _My years in H.O.W. were great but I'm happy now and trying a new style._ ” he repeated. It was the truth, but it sounded a bit fake when he said it with that _good boy_ voice.

“Good enough,” Eddie sighed. They were exhausting. “Sid, don't say _anything_.”

“Hey!” the blonde pouted.

“Actually... He has a point.” Leckie nodded.

“ _Incredible_. Fucking incredible.” he grumbled.

“And Eugene.” he turned to look at the redhead. “ _Damage control_. Don't start a foolish fight. Don't be petty. We'll be honest as we can about this. We will say that you saw Snafu's interview. That you are aware that he has been tweeting about you, but that you didn't know that much about him or his career.” So far, that was somehow true. “And that's why you bought those CDs, because you wanted to see their work _as a band_. I insist. As a band, do not focus on Snafu. You wanted to listen to their music and see what they did, because you respect the industry and everybody's work. Alright?”

“Clearly he doesn't respect _my_ work.”

“That doesn't matter. It's about _your_ public image, not his. Okay?”

Eugene finally nodded.

“Okay. Don't mess it up once again or this will never end.”

Clearly Snafu was not the kind to let go on things.

Maybe neither was Eugene.

*** * ***

He spent the whole night listening to Chasing The Pacific. And screw him, they were _quite_ good. They had a strange vibe. If Eugene had to describe them, the words he would use were _lazy_ and _lustful_. The guitar riffs were as good as he remembered. They weren't energetic or delirious until the climax, not rushing it. They marked a steady rhythm. Slow. Taking their time. Something you'd hum in your bedroom. The drums were a constant pace. Easy to follow with your head or yours hips. The bass was an invitation, deep and vibrating. And Snafu's voice?

Well. Fucking Hell. He was _actually_ good.

He dragged the notes, stretched the words and made them become sticky. Like sugar over sweated skin. Sometimes his voice had the warmth and familiar tenderness of a lover with very little shame, and other times the promise of a stranger that was willing to fulfill any desire you could have.

Snafu used no names. All their lovers were _baby_ , _love_ , _sugar_ , _cher_ , _darling_ and even, sometimes, _toy_. They were always his and no one else's. _Won't you be my toy?_ Or _I'll take care of you, my love_.

Eugene felt like he would need to take a shower before going to bed. Their albums invited you to listen to them, laying down, enjoying a cigarette, as Eugene was. Terrible habit, for sure. But it helped him when he was stressed. And right now, he wasn't. He was calm. The music was soothing him in the same way it consumed him. He smoked with delight. Not with the anxiety of needing the smoke in his lungs. He licked his lips and sighed as he exlahed, while Snafu kept singing on right on his ear: _Oh, baby baby baby... why you gotta be so mean? Oh, baby baby baby, I would help you see so clear._

Eugene was no stranger to sex. He had a boyfriend during college: Robert Oswalt. The first and the _only_. Rob was kind and good to him. Sweet and sometimes very quiet. Very much like Eugene. And perhaps that's why it didn't work out. It got too repetitive. A little boring, if you will. They settled down quickly on the same routine and while that was not a bad thing necessarily, it didn't work out for neither of them. He would always appreciate the fact that Rob never tried to talk the press when Eugene started to gain notoriety.

The fact his mother and his brother reacted so poorly when he told them he was gay truly made him reticent about coming out. The less they know about him, the better. And it's not like there was that much to tell. During those four years, Eugene has been... busy. Too busy to even think about relationships or one-night stands. Also, you never know who might betray you.

It could be said that it has been _a long time_ since he let go. And those songs were _so inviting_. As soon as Eugene finished his cigarette, he shifted and laid on his stomach. He toyed with the idea of trying to find some content of their videos or live perfomances. Try to see if _#FFF_ was truly better than what he already heard.

No need.

He could already tell they were good. Snafu was not a better singer. Nor he was worse. He was far too different to be able to compare.

Eugene felt a little better with himself. He decided that he would forgive him just because he liked what he heard so far.

He took a cold shower and went to bed.

*** * ***

Something that was born in a radio studio was meant to grown in the same environment.

Leckie continued to talk. Eugene listened to him, in silence. He nodded here and there, when he agreed with him or when he recalled something he told him before. H.O.W. ended up on good terms, but none of them wanted to continue. They all had different reasons and you couldn't keep something alive when everybody was so tired or so disconnected from the project. “So, yeah. I really appreciate Snafu's words.” he summarized. “But I think what we are doing is just as good.” Not as good as _Dear Vera_ , maybe. But that was because he literally poured his soul into that album.

Sadly, you can't do that often.

“Don't think Eugene can say he is just as grateful.” the host replied with a small smile over her lips.

Eugene rubbed his nose and sat down properly when the attention shifted towards him. “Not as grateful, but not offended.”

“You sounded a little offended with that tweet for sure.” it was her work to keep the interview interesting.

“I said what I said. I don't think it was the right thing to say. And I've been told he's been tweeting about me. I understand that it's just the way he jokes. Might be a little aggressive for my taste.” Eugene shrugged.

And then he was ready to tell the world that he respected Snafu as a musician. And that Chasing The Pacific was a good band, but the host interrupted him. “I would say your tastes are very different. You said that you know he's been tweeting about you.”

“I'm _aware_ , yeah.” he replied.

“Did you see the last one?”

“No. I don't look my phone that much. I don't use Twitter oft—”

He spoke while she quickly typed something on her computer and turned the screen a little bit so he could see it. “Here.” she interrupted him before he could finish. “Just found out that _Sunday_ includes a freaking” fucking was big and clear on the screen. “passage from the Bible. What's wrong with Eugene Sledge?” he had the guts to literally direct that at him. “It's that true?”

“It includes a passage from the Corinthians.” Eugene explained, defensive. “Problem?”

“None!” she quickly smiled once again. “I think it's a great single.”

Eugene tried to keep it quiet for a few seconds but no. No, he couldn't take this shit anymore. Good artists could still be insufferable people. And Snafu was one of those, for sure. “Okay.” the bomb is ticking. “Can I have a minute of your attention? I'd like to say something.”

“Sure thing! We are all listening.”

Leckie looked down and smiled a bit, knowing that this would get messy but entertaining. At least, for once, it wouldn't be him who got the scolding from Eddie. Sid was told to be quiet about this issue, but he was already kicking Eugene's shin under the table. Thankfully, he missed.

“I can understand that some other people in this industry don't like or are not interested in what we are doing. That's fair. On the other hand, I don't think that personal attacks are a way to handle something that is strictly related to our work. He felt in the position to say that the only thing I bring to this band are my looks. And now he is making fun of my faith. I don't think that has that much to do with the music, anymore. I heard some of their work. And I truly believe that they are an excellent band. All of them are very talented. But Snafu is stepping out of line. Any criticism from him might be a little too much when he's been singing pretty much the same for the past five years.”

Leckie rubbed his mouth with his hand to keep himself from laughing. Okay, Eugene was a little feisty when he wanted to. Sid rolled his eyes and groaned, leaned back on his chair, heavily. Eddie was not very far from the studio, listening to them and groaning into the palms of his hands.

“The same? How does he sound?” she insisted a little, to make her podcast as relevant as possible.

“Oh, you know.” Eugene shrugged and began humming, almost purring, managing to make a good impression of Snafu's usual vocal range. “ _Oh, baby baby baby..._ ” he sang far slower than he usually did. Adding an accent that was not his. “ _Why you gotta be so mean?_ ” Eugene shrugged one shoulder and looked at her. “Change baby for love, cher or sugar. Change that question for anything that might be said before having sex. There you have it. That's what he has been doing for years. So, yeah.”

“That was pretty good.” Leckie commented, as the host agreed with him.

Eugene reached out for his coffee and sipped it, knowing that he did wrong but not having it in him to feel regret.

“Can we stop talking about that guy, please?” Sid groaned.

*** * ***

“Snafu” Jay shook him energetically. “Wake up, it's time for you to get _punished_.”

“Mhmm...” he grumbled, rubbing his face against the pillow, ignoring the fact that it was almost noon and that he fucked up once again.

“Burgie and Ack Ack are mad. You'll want to be fully awake before they arrive.” he wouldn't stop. Snafu was not opening his eyes or talking back to him. He sighed a little bit. “Bill.” he called.

Leyden threw himself on top of Snafu, heavy as he could be considering he was the smallest man in the room. Those arms got strong after being the drummer of the band for many years. He wrapped them around the singer and started to squeeze, pressing Snafu's elbows against his own ribs.

“Motherfucker!” Snafu hissed, trying to get away from him. And since Leyden knew Snafu very well by now, he quickly moved away before he could even try to headbutt him. He slapped him roughly on his back and then squeezed his shoulder, making sure that the pain would linger for the following minutes.

Snafu kicked him out of his bed and hissed: “I'm awake, you fuckin' bastard.” he rubbed his eyes and leaned his back heavily against the headboard. “What have I done, this time?”

“One word: _Sledge_.” Jay grinned, crossing his arms. “You messed up, _big time_.”

“Impossible. The kid is havin' the time of his life ignoring me.” Snafu shook his head before he kicked the blankets aside and got off the bed. His bandmates groaned dramatically and turned around. They saw him naked plenty of times before, no need to overreact. He grabbed some clean boxers and put them on. He went through his drawers and got his pack of cigarettes and lighter, knowing that he would end up needing those to sit down through Ack Ack and Burgie's _bitching show_.

“Not anymore.” Leyden added, now sitting down on the armchair, wanting to be on the first row to not miss anything.

“Mhm?” Snafu raised his eyebrows, taking his phone to see if he could find out what happened before those two arrived.

“Not Twitter.” Jay shook his head. “Something else. And knowing you? Something _better_.” he grinned, way too cryptic, leaning against the wall.

Snafu truly regretted ever asking that demon to become part of their band. There should be an unspoken rule in the world of music that would force bassists to have a bland personality. Jay was awfully talented. He played with the band for a couple of years, mostly during tours, ever since _#FFF_ but didn't become part of it properly —meaning, going with them to interviews and posing in photoshops and red carpets— until _BABY BABY BABY_. Snafu knew that it was the respect they all for Hamm, who passed away in 2009 in a car accident. It took them no time, though, to replace Peck with Leyden back in 2007, little after _MOTEL_ was released. Why? Well. He was a fucking asshole. That was enough of a reason for Snafu. Burgie, to make it classy, said it was _artistic differences_.

“Well. Bring it on.” he fell over the bed. He put the cigarette on his mouth and light it up exactly when the guitarist and the manager entered inside of his hotel bedroom.

“Good mornin', gentlemen.” he grinned with a puff of smoke. “Had some breakfast? Relieved your bladders? Told your significant other you love them?”

“You fucking asshole.” Burgie cut him right away, looking very far from pleased. Who had the time to be in a band and also behave like everybody's mother? Thank God Ack Ack helped plenty and ordered the other three around like they were soldiers. _Discipline or death_. “I told you to _not_ bother Sledge. Believe it or not, plenty of people who listen to our music _actually_ like that guy.”

“Why? We sing about fuckin'. And he sings about...” he trailed off, like he didn't know. Like he didn't have a browsing history full of _Eugene Sledge_ , _Eugene Sledge 2016_ , _Eugene Sledge girlfriend_ , _Eugene Sledge boyfriend_ and yes, he also had _Eugene Sledge scandal_ and _Eugene Sledge naked_. He only got to see Leckie's hairy ass and that blonde kid with the tiny eyes screaming because he wanted a hamburger. Sledge was as clean as he could be. “what does he sing about, Leyden?”

“Sugar, spice and everything nice, probably.” while Leyden had a love-hate relationship with Snafu, he was always willing to make fun of innocent people just for the sake of being an asshole and entertaining himself.

“I don't advice you to get involved in this, Bill.” Ack Ack never raised his voice. He didn't need to. He left the laptop he carried under his arm over the bed. “Pay attention to this, will you?” he looked at Snafu before played the video from YouTube. Ack Ack always played by the book. Of course he would try to find the original highlight from the podcast and not simply play an uploaded and shorter version from Twitter.

It was such a shame that the video had no image. So he could only look at the logo of the radio station and listen.

Sledge said that he was _aware_ that he has been tweeting about him. And that made Snafu feel a little irritated, forcing him to say: “He's so full of shit, he totally knows that I've been tweeting him. He just loves to pretend to be a hard candy.” That's all that Sledge was. He knew his kind. Once you get through the sour and hard shell and dig your teeth into it, you'll get to the sweet and syrupy core. He was going to melt for him. _Just wait and see_.

“Shut up or we are going to miss the part when you had the guts to talk shit about his lyrics.” Burgie casually said, like he was not pissed about it.

“Bible passages ain't my style. I had to let him know.” anything for some attention.

Ack Ack hushed them both, still calm. When Sledge said: _Can I have a minute of your attention? I'd like to say something_ Leyden and Jay became visibly interested. Snafu even raised an eyebrow, never expecting him to say or do anything about it. Maybe contact him in private or through managers. But that's about it.

And then Eugene Sledge said that he respected everybody and that maybe personal attacks were out of place. That his looks and religion were not his music —that's really debatable, though— and that Snafu had been singing the same for the last five years.

And fuck him if that didn't put a smile on Snafu's lips. He was fighting back! And now only that! He was getting petty, as well. Snafu snorted, clearly amused by Sledge's impression of his voice and style. And hey, hearing him sing one of his songs, even if it was less than ten seconds, turned him on a little bit.

“Ah, thank God, we can finally get a new singer.” Jay sighed, happily.

“Fuck you.” Snafu said without any heat in his voice, far too pleased with this.

“This is not good.” Ack Ack began, poiting out the very obvious. “You don't need an open war. Not _another_ one.”

“It's been months since I said anythin' about anyone!” Snafu quickly replied.

“Believe it or not, there are artists that go _years_ without getting into any sort of drama.”

“That ain't me, Ack Ack. If I didn't end my career when I was high as fuck all the time and even snorted cocaine in public, I won't now.” he always used that excuse. Snafu had some bad, terrible years in his personal life. It was funny how those matched the best they had as a band. Releasing good albums and still barely being able to function because there was too much in his system to keep working.

“Not good enough for me.” Ack Ack had been around ever since their second album. He saw and knew what Snafu went through. Not very pretty and he wasn't always proud of the things he had to do to cover up his attitude and problems.

Snafu shrugged. “I don't have anythin' else, so maybe it _should_ be.”

“I want you to leave Sledge alone. Next time they ask you about him, you'll simply say: _no comment_.”

“That will make me sound like a _bitch_.”

“Is that something new, Merriell?”

Snafu gasped a little bit.

“So I thought. This issue.” he pointed at the laptop and then back at him. “Ends here, already? This sort of feud ends with you keep it shut.”

“I won't talk about it anymore.” Snafu rolled his eyes. “That what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes. And I want you to keep the promise.”

“I will. No problem.” he placed a hand over his chest, over his heart.

“Just watch your mouth. Let us have a day to rest. Come on, boys. There's plenty to do.” he clapped his hands. Ack Ack had the soul of a P.E. teacher. “And you,” he pointed at Snafu. “get dressed. Now.”

Or maybe far beyond that. The soul of a captain. “Right away, sir.”

*** * ***

This whole new obsession/teenage crush began two months ago. He met Leckie back in 2010 and he totally meant what he said. _Dear Vera_ was an amazing album. But after that, H.O.W. continued to be good, but not _as_ good. The Old Breed has been playing for four years now and released two albums. And each time he had the chance to listen to them, Snafu decided he had something better to do, almost scared of seeing someone he used to admire become part of some bullshit pseudo-catholic band. So he decided to be careful about it and approach it in a way that wouldn't make him reject the band within seconds.

A cover was a good way to start. He didn't want to get into their mystically religious lyrics just yet. _People Are Strange_ was a classic and really, The Doors were always a safe bet. But they were also risky, because if you try to imitate The Lizard King, chances are you are going to look like a presumtuous dickhead.

But Sledge had it. His voice was somehow husky and it broke with the lower notes, making it somehow... Well. Snafu would call it sexual. But he understood it wasn't. It simply turned him on. When Eugene's voice broke, it added color to the notes. Any sort of background music would fit that kind of voice and that's something not every singer could brag about.

And perhaps the best thing about Sledge, as a vocalist, was that he was not overly ambitious. He was not arrogant as many others that kept acting like they were the leaders and the only ones worth looking at in that stage. Sledge looked humble, perhaps a little _static_ , while he did one Hell of a cover, singing and playing his guitar. Like the fucking cameras and audience bumped into him in the privacy of his room.

Snafu liked that cover so much that _strange_ became his new favourite word. But only from Sledge's mouth.

And then he thought that if he could make him fall in love with songs he already knew, then maybe he would be able to do the same with the ones he didn't. So he went to Spotify and typed their name. He started with the first one, _Days of Ash_. And it was good. It was pretty damn good. _Fade Away_ , _Rara Avis_ , _Mary_ and _Venus_ were the singles of the album and while he thought that Mary was pretty damn basic —maybe because it was Sid Phillips who sang the song—, the other three were fucking good. In fact, he even knew the words of _Sunday_. So he merely lying and pretending during the interview.

It was just a bridge between him and Sledge. He could have approached him in a way friendlier way, but once again, Snafu was not the kind of person to do things properly. Or even in a reasonably.

After the first approach to Sledge, musically, he wanted to get to know him a little better as a person. And he read his whole Wikipedia page that was not all that helpful. But that allowed him to discover that he was from Mobile, that he has been friends with Sid Phillips since they were little, that he could play the guitar and the piano, that he decided to go to college and study ornithology before he tried any luck in the world of music.

No famous or remotely relevant significant others. Snafu wished he could say the same, because some of the people he trusted did him dirty. And, well. He used to take pride in seeing articles that assembled all the people he was rumored to have had _a something_ with and for that list to be longer than twenty different names. Now, it doesn't. He didn't regret, either. Having sex or a crush here and there was nothing to be ashamed of, he did far worse that _truly_ made him feel ashamed. But maybe he was changing. Thirty-one and willing to settle down.

What a fucking disaster.

 _Anyway_.

He spent two months trying to find the best way to approach Eugene and picked the worst option. But he got the other man to buy his CDs and for him to bite back. And he was pretty thrilled. How could Ack Ack ask him to stop this now?

He couldn't. This was only the beginning.

“I just don't know what I can say to him, Maman.” Snafu sighed, laying on the bed and holding the phone close to his ear.

“Well, _minet_ , if you don't know what to say to 'im, why don't you write 'im a song?” she offered. Alma knew that her son had problems expressing himself ever since he was little kid. Music was truly a way out for all the frustration and the sadness.

“His style is not my style.”

“Your style is anyone's style! It's pretty _cool_!” Snafu smiled and shook his head. His mother was a goddamn treasure. “Why don't you write about somethin' he cares about? That you know he likes?”

“You think that will work?”

“You wrote me a song, and I loved it!” she spoke in a way that he just knew she was smiling. “It made me cry a little.”

“I know, Maman, I was _there_.”

“Look at you. _My little Merry_.” she whispered.

“Are you goin' to start cryin' again?”

“... _Maybe_.”

From the other side he could hear a small curse. “Is Mamaw there, too?” he snorted.

“Yes, I came over for a visit.”

“Grumpy as ever?”

“Oh, she sure is! Thank God grand-mère Connie soothes her well enough. This woman!” it was well known that the only way to stop Mamaw from being a bitter old lady was to keep her beloved one close to her. “By the way, she told me to ask you about Lulu. How's the little one doin'?”

Lulu was no longer _little_ at almost the age of twenty-six. But when her mother told her to get a job or get out, Snafu did what anyone would have done in his position. He told her to pack her things and go with him. She kept them all stylish and looking like proper rockstars until this very day. “She's doin' just great.” Snafu's family was a little unusual and had practically nothing to do with blood. “Datin' Romie, still.”

“Let's see if they get married!”

“You sure love weddings, huh?”

“I do. So, be a good boy, charm that Eugene and marry 'im, too, alright?”

Snafu chuckled and said: “Yeah, I'll do my best.”

“Good. Now, when are you comin' back home? I miss you.”

Snafu tried to explain her that he would be pretty busy during the whole summer. Far too many flights and festivals.

*** * ***

“Bill Leyden, I wanna make a song.” Snafu said that Friday night.

Leyden frowned a little bit and turned to look at him from the couch. “Why are you telling me?”

“You are my drummer, aren't you?”

“I'm a drummer. I'm not _your_ anything, Shit and Ass.” he lost his attention.

Snafu stood up and headed towards him. “Hey, listen to me, Bill Leyden.” it was impossible for him to say either the name or the surname. “I've got somethin' good. And I want you to help me out, okay? So c'mon, boy. Get those arms workin'.”

“Why aren't you telling Burgie?” those two have been composing songs together for eleven years. You'd think they don't really have the same style but turns out that Burgie was as kinky as Snafu and was always willing to spice up the lyrics. “Or Jay?” Ack Ack was out of the matter, right now. This is music, not some deal he had to close or sex scandal he had to solve.

Snafu denied. Burgie wouldn't let him release that kind of song, and Jay would tell Ack Ack right away. He needed someone sneaky as he was. Bill Leyden was his man. “Need ya.” he punched his shoulder, lightly.

Leyden sighed and ended up shrugging. “You are lucky I have nothing better to do.”

They spent the whole night trying to find the perfect beat. Something slow. Something tempting. A very clear insinuation that whoever that is listening to this is missing the time of their lives. That giving in would be the best damn thing that would happen to them.

Snafu played the guitar and he was sure that Burgie would manage to give it a far more refined touch. But he didn't want that. He wanted it a little sloppy and somehow messy. Like the blur of desire. He wanted it to be something raw and honest, like a need that can no longer be ignored.

He only had the chorus in the back of his head. He kept singing it each time that Leyden started once again with a slightly different rhythm until it would match perfectly. “ _God comes second, let me have you first._ _At this hour of the night there's nothing left to confess. Get on your knees, I'll listen to your pleas._ _I'll give you all you want._ ” he sang over and over again until he asked him to stop.

He moved around, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling a few things before he said. “Gonna record us with my phone, now.”

And then, he asked exactly what he wanted from Leyden and played along. Without singing this time. Leyden told him that he was tired, after that. Snafu let him go, making sure that tomorrow they would go to the study and spend the whole day there, if it was necessary, to finish the song.

“Can't do much without the lyrics.” Leyden said before he left.

Snafu spent the whole night awake. His mother told him to sing about something Eugene liked. And Snafu was about to make a reply to one of Eugene's songs. The most famous one that was being played everywhere, lately.

Sledge sang about Sunday morning. He sang about Saturday night. Different points of view, and his was always meant to be a little more explicit. Not so mystical. When Sledge sang: “ _He kissed your eyelids with grace._ _You sipped His cup of truth and sunlight._ _Flesh and skin are now His home._ ”, Snafu replied: “ _Keep your eyes on me, Cher._ _This cup is not full, yet. Let me taste your wine._ _He can't see you now._ ” When Sledge preached: “ _Salvation comes from your hand._ _There's nothing I would want to hide._ _I'd come back to you running to through flames and tides._ ”, Snafu continued to play his game: “ _Soft and purple, ain't that truly divine?_ _I'll make you come with my hand._ _Get on the floor, open up to me._ ” When Sledge sighed: “ _The Sun raises over your crown._ _This morning is already divine._ _Take me high. Give Him all of me._ ”, Snafu couldn't help himself: “ _This Saturday night, I've been king for a little while. I'm a selfish one. What you gave me is all mine._ ”

And finally, when Sledge challenged him: “ _Love me this Sunday._ ”, Snafu promised him even more: “ _I'll love you every time._ ”

Who the fuck knows how this will end, but that song was pretty damn good, considering that lacked a bassline and Burgie's touch. And had no backing vocals. If it also got him laid or at least managed to send Sledge his way, he would be satisfied.

*** * ***

The name was _obvious_.

He already bitched about the fact that the song had a passage from the damn fucking Bible. And Snafu did his research —thank you, Google—. Eugene's interview confirmed that it was Corinthians, _3:16_. Considering he was singing about a very funny night, he decided to let people know that was time and not the reference.

Or maybe he just wanted to play around with them.

But that was the main reason why he uploaded it the next night, after spending the day at the studio, at three sixteen in the morning. Technically, it was already Sunday. He merely added _Demo_ after the title and put it for streaming on their SoundCloud account.

Then he went to bed, happier than ever.

*** * ***

“You insufferable bastard.” Burgie was in the room.

“God rested on Sunday, y'know?” Snafu huffed against his pillow, holding it tight.

“Turns out you are really getting into religion, lately.” he sounded so accusative. Maybe that was fair. “Why the fuck would you upload it without telling _me_ anything? Or Jay? Or Ack Ack?”

“You sound far more pissed at the fact that I didn't tell _you_.”

“We've been writing songs for years, do excuse me if I feel a little left out.”

“You like it?”

“That's _not_ the point.”

“So you _do_ like it.”

“It's pretty good. Could have been better with me playing the guitar.”

“Okay, Jimmy Page, calm down.” Snafu laid on his back and rubbed his eyes with his eyes.

Burgie sat down on his bed and placed the laptop on the bed. Then, so far from being polite, he told him all the things he didn't like. And those were _quite_ _a_ _few_.

“Yeah, that's why I said it's a demo. It's not a final version. And it's already good. You just wanna make it legendary and make me feel bad about myself.”

“You can't play the guitar like I can. Stop being bitter about it. Take the advice from the teacher.” Snafu couldn't deny that Burgie was simply superior at that. But his voice was not as _charismatic_ as his. So he felt like they were even.

“Yeah, but the lyrics, though.”

“You mean your poor attempt to get Sledge's attention?”

“Is it that obvious?” by the way he smiled, it was clear that Snafu didn't regret a single thing.

Burgie played the song and looked down at him. He visibly pointed at the screen when Snafu sang: _I'll make you come with my hand_. “That's _really_ smooth.”

“Could be about anyone. These hands have done plenty for humanity.”

“Oh, shut up.” Burgie snorted.

“You'll never know, Romus. You've only been with one girl your whole life.”

“I advice you to not bitch about my wife and the mother of my children. You might get your ass kicked.”

How those two could have made it so far was impressive to Snafu. And how Burgie did not cheat on Florence even once in his whole life was simply _not_ realistic. It had to be that military discipline of his. How could you reject, if not, a lovely girl sitting on your lap and promising you that she will never tell anyone?

“And to think that could had been me!” Snafu sighed, dramatically. Burgie grinned and rolled his eyes. When he met him back in 2005 surely Snafu tried to get him to bed. But that didn't really work out and just to think about it now, after more than a decade of being friends felt so _bizarre_.

“You never had a chance. _Now_. Two things. First: if you wanted to get Sledge's attention, you could have told Ack Ack. He has the number of their manager.”

“That felt a little too impersonal.” he reached out of the pack of cigarettes. First thing in the morning and the last before going to bed. Not ideal but still far better than alcohol or cocaine. “And it will work. Just wait and see.”

“Meanwhile, you drag us all to your drama.”

“Pretty much.”

“Second: I want to make this song better.”

“Wanna record it again? Bill Leyden might start bitching about it.”

“Not by now. Ack Ack might tell want us to put it down.” it was not so hard to discover that it was a reply to _Sunday_. People could think that they were making fun of Sledge. That was something that fit them as a band far too well for Burgie's taste.

“I don't think so. It's doing pretty well.” Burgie said as Snafu checked how many times the song has been played, liked and shared. And, alright. Quite a lot considering that has been on the Internet for less than twelve hours. “But I want to improve it for Boston Calling.”

“We are goin' to Boston Callin'?”

“Yeah, and you should know, by now.”

*** * ***

“He vandalized my song, Eddie!” Eugene practically screamed. “He took my song and made fun of it! He is now making profit of my work!”

“Technically, he is not making profit. It's on SoundCloud an—”

“I don't care!” he interrupted him right away. “He is making profit because he is making fun of me and my music and my beliefs! How is that not making profit?” He was not earning any money, so he wasn't making _any_ profit. “He is making profit! _Symbolically_!”

“Maybe you should calm down a little bit.” Leckie suggested, with one earplug on, listening to _3:16_. It was a good song, he couldn't possibly pretend for Eugene's mental well-being. “This is going to give us plenty of notoriety.”

“I don't want notoriety, I want respect for my music!” he snapped at Leckie. The older man raised his hands in defeat as Sid denied at him, letting him know that try to talk with Eugene at that moment was pretty useless. “Eddie, I want you to call their manager.” his voice was firm, he was convinced. “And I want you to tell him to put the song down.”

“Eugene, try to be realistic about this. Even if they put it down, it's already everywhere.” he tried to explain him. “The more you want to hide this, the more people will want to know about it.”

“ _The Streisand Effect_.” Sid said, leaning against Leckie, so he could hear the song with his other earplug. “Celebrity 101, Eugene. Catch up.”

“I don't care!” he was not exactly reasonable, right now. Snafu made him act so unlike himself. “Call them.”

“Alright, alright.” he sighed. “Let's see what we can do about it.” he picked his phone and waited. He spoke once he was greeted from the other side. “Andy? Hello, it's Edward Jones. Manager of The Old Breed.” he quickly introduced him.

Eugene was glued to his side, trying to listen to their conversation. When Ack Ack said _Yes, I remember you_ and Eddie smiled like a fool, he nudged him. Eddie cleared his throat and continued: “Look, we just found out about the new song your band released?”

“They just told me about it.”

“Okay, Eugene is not... pleased.”

“I'm _rabid_!”

“Understandable. Snafu uploaded it all by himself, without the band's consent.”

“They weren't involved in the making?”

“From what I could discover, Bill was. But he didn't really do anything beyond that.”

“Tell him to take it down.” Eugene didn't care about the explanation. He just wanted a solution.

“You see, Eugene... He would appreciate it if you could...” he began, trying to not make Eugene sound like a diva. Even if he really was having that kind of moment, right now.

“Take it down?”

“Yes.”

“I don't think that will be possible. The whole band agreed that it's quite a good song. And they want to keep it. It's already on SoundCloud. They are not making any money out of it, if that's what bothers him?”

Eugene huffed and gave him Eddie a look that clearly said: _do something_.

“He considers that Snafu's song diminishes the meaning of his work.” he explained, calm as he could while Eugene kept urging him. “Could we find a solution for that?”

“I don't think that was Snafu's intention. He was inspired by Eugene's work.”

“Oh, such bullshit!” Eugene huffed. He had enough. Eugene took Eddie's phone and the manager was too puzzled to act in time to not let him mess this up even further. “Hello? It's Eugene speaking.”

“And this is where our career dies.” Sid sighed and shook his head.

“Hello, Eugene. How are you doing?”

“Not great, thanks to the stupid man you keep trying to defend.”

“That's a pity.” he chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

“Well. I'm really offended he decided to take my song and make some sort of version of it.” it wasn't a version in the slightest. Snafu made a reply. And a quite successful one considering it was barely finished. “And I want it _gone_.”

“Eugene, I don't think that will be possible. People already heard the song. And those who found similarities don't think it makes yours any worse. Or that it's offensive. I can't see the problem.”

“ _I_ find it offensive. Isn't that enough?”

“Why do you think it's offensive?”

Eugene stayed in silence for a few seconds, panicking. Right now, the manager was like a parent who asked a little child why they were throwing a tantrum. Turns out Eugene didn't have an answer for that. So he ended up blurting out: “Because I don't like it.”

Leckie snorted and Sid huffed: “Oh, my God, _shut up_.” He tended to be the one that bitched all the time and Eugene was now taking his spot.

“Maybe you should call me when you have an answer for that?” he offered, so kindly, that Eugene wanted to bark at him: _take it down, I will sue you, I will destroy your stupid band!_ But before he had time to do that and ruin his reputation, Eddie took the phone again.

**BOSTON CALLING, MAY 2016**

When they arrived to Boston, the airport was plagued with paparazzi. It was a save bet to stick around, knowing that the festival would start in the following twenty-four hours. The famous musicians would keep coming and they only had to stay there, with their cameras ready.

As soon as they stepped out of the airport, Eugene put his sunglasses on and expected the _worst_. Ever since _3:16_ came out, Eugene decided to delete his Twitter app from his phone. He didn't want to see the notifications and he didn't want to read what people had to say. He wouldn't even let Leckie tell him about it. During those two weeks, Eugene absolutely ignored the issue and carried on like it didn't exist. It also helped they didn't have interviews or events that could remind him of his current situation.

So having a camera right in front of his face within seconds was not _great_.

“Long time no see you!” said the reporter, enthusiastically.

Eugene would bet his money that he was from TMZ or something like that. He smiled and nodded, as he kept walking after Sid and Leckie, who also had a few cameras on them. Eddie was closer to Eugene because he was the one with the biggest scandal floating around him, lately.

“Happy to be here? First time playing at Boston Calling?” at least he started soft.

“Second.” Eugene replied, short but polite. “We are very happy to be here again.”

“Doesn't bother you that Chasing The Pacific will be playing too?”

Okay, nevermind. Not starting soft at all.

“No. It doesn't.” Eugene knew better than asking him why he would even care.

“People have been speculating about the relationship between you and Snafu...”

“What relationship? We never even _met_.” Eugene snorted. “He's not my enemy, if that's what you are trying to imply.”

“Not your enemy, no! Maybe you two had a _fling_. Maybe that's why he wrote you a song.”

Eugene stopped walking and his eyes widened behind his sunglasses. “Excuse me. A _what_?”

“A _fling_.” the reporter repeated. “You know, the lyrics are pretty explicit an—”

“We've never met!” Eugene quickly stopped him. “For God's sake. What the Hell. _What the Hell_!” he huffed as he started to walk once again, quicker this time. Eddie was close enough to be able to step in and thank the reporter and lead Eugene towards their car.

And once he got inside, he almost had a panic attack.

“Hey, Eugene, calm down.” Sid had his hand over his back, rubbing it.

“Now people will think I'm gay!” he gasped, with his head pressed against his hands: his elbows over his knees.

“...You _are_ gay.” Sid dared to add.

“But no one knows! Because I didn't want them to know!” Eugene snarled.

“There's nothing wrong with it!”

“Oh, yeah. Of course! Easy for you to say!” people would try to find out how his story was. Get Rob involved. And... and his mother. And his brother. Now everybody will know and they will hate him even more. Because it was easy to ignore his sexuality when he was no one. Not now that he would make it to the front cover of magazines.

Sid looked at Eddie and Leckie in the front seats and leaned against Eugene. He has been his friend for years. It was him who had to help him out, right now. He leaned his forehead against his temple and whispered: “Don't worry about it. You are doing your life. And they are doing theirs. You don't owe them anything.”

Stupidly enough, Eugene always had the hope that they would try to reach out. To have a good relationship with him. When his father died, little after he finished his degree, Eugene felt devastated. He was the only one who knew about his sexuality because Eugene never found the courage to tell his mother. And he kept the secret, knowing that he would need some time. He even introduced him to Rob, once. When his father died, Eugene decided to change many things about his life. And one of them was try and see if he would be any succesful in the music industry. And also tell his mother and brother that he was attracted to men. His mother cried and Edward said terrible things. The best and only thing he could do was go with Sid to Los Angeles and meet Leckie.

He hasn't spoken to them ever since. Four long years of silence.

They must hate him beyond words.

It was tough to lose your family just like that.

“Come on.” Sid wrapped his arm around him, properly. “Doesn't matter what people think. If you want to say it, say it. If you don't, shrug it off. Up to you.” Or maybe he didn't even have to make a big deal out of it. Just live his life and let people find out if they cared about that.

Eugene took a deep breath and exhaled, heavily. He could use a cigarette. Or two. Or three. He nodded. “Yeah. Fine. _Whatever_.” Sid squeezed his shoulder. “I'm going to kill him as soon as I see him.”

*** * ***

“So we are here with Chasing The Pacific.” they barely finished their rehearsal and they already had an interview. Ack Ack made them work hard. That disciplined bastard. “And I couldn't be happier about it, personally.”

“Appreciated.” Burgie nodded.

“We are here in Boston. And I think this is your... fifth time?”

“Fifth, already?” Leyden turned his head and looked at the guitarist. He nodded.

“What do you love about coming to Boston Calling?”

“Good music. Nice stage. And Snafu usually gets lost.” Jay grinned. “It's the best deal we can get.”

Snafu shrugged: “Big fuckin' place, isn't it?” It was big, but not _that_ big. He just started wandering and never told people where he was going. Of course he got lost all the time.

“That happens very often?” asked the interviewer.

“Been happening for eleven years, now.” Burgie answered. “He eventually shows up. Fifteen minutes late.”

“But I show up. That's what truly matters.” Snafu said before taking a sip of his water bottle. “And now there's no danger I will be in the hospital because I had an overdose, that's _dandy_.” Sometimes it was very uncomfortable to hear him talk about his former addiction because he was tremendously honest about it.

“So... What are you going to play for us?”

“Same thing as usual. _Room 29_ , _Peach_ , _No Man_ , _Désolé_ , _Crush_ , _Baby Baby Baby_... And the new ones _Yours_ , _August_ , _Loud_ , _Drown_... What else?” Snafu looked at the other three. He just rehearsed them and he didn't remember anymore.

“ _Cherry Soda_. We have to play _Cherry Soda_ , too.” Burgie grinned.

“Fuckin' hate that one.” Snafu sighed.

“How so?” the interviewer raised his eyebrows.

“It's a bad song and we've been playing it for nine years. Enough is enough.” If he could, he would just cross that one and forget about it.

“I wrote that one, asshole.” Bill frowned.

“We _all_ hate that song.” Snafu insisted, ignoring Bill's remark.

“What about _3:16_? Are you going to play that one, as well?”

“Yes, we are going to play that one and make it _good_.” Burgie nodded.

“It's already good.” Snafu said.

“It's _mediocre_ at best.”

“Horny and mediocre. That should be the name of the band.” Jay hummed.

Snafu put his sunglasses on and looked forward, way ahead of the interviewer, letting them know that he was done with this. He was only there physically.

At least they would be able to talk in peace and without him interrupting him or running his mouth. Or gushing about Sledge. So that was the best situation that could happen.

But both protagonists of the scandal were about to be in the very same place. As he heard the first chords of a guitar, Snafu turned his head and looked behind him, over his shoulder. A new soundcheck began and he was mildly interested of who it would be. As soon as Snafu saw red hair, he jumped over the fence he was leaning against. He didn't even bother to excuse himself with his other bandmates. Once again, Snafu being gone implied a calm interview.

He jumped three fences more and sat down over the row of those that would keep the audience from approaching too close to the stage. When Eugene turned after nodding at Leckie, he saw him. Right there. With a big stupid grin on his lips. Eugene knew that he would say something insufferable before he opened his mouth to say: “S'up, Red?”

Eugene had never been more grateful to stand in front of a microphone, while holding a guitar on his hands. He only huffed: “ _Get lost_.” before Leckie counted off the band. They covered Snafu's voice with their music.

The frontman grinned and crossed his arms, enjoying their music and even more how Eugene was trying to at look literally any spot except him. _Green Ghost_ was far from being Snafu's favourite, but it was a good way to open a show. It was easy to recognize and energetic.

When that first song came to its end, Snafu framed his mouth with his hands and cheered. Eugene looked at Sid and the blonde shrugged. He was ruining his life and now he was ruining their rehearsal. “Can you shut up?” he insisted, raising an eyebrow. “We are working, here.”

“I paid for my ticket! I have the right to be here!”

“You didn't pay for anything!” Eugene replied. This was ridiculous. He couldn't start bickering while being on stage. He was better than that.

“Keep playin' for me, baby!”

“ _Fuck off_!”

Snafu's eyebrows raised over his sunglasses and his smile couldn't fit on his face anymore. Eugene cursed inside of his mind and squeezed his eyes shut. This man was making him act so unlike himself. He hated him.

When he opened his eyes, Burgie was right behind Snafu, grabbing him and getting him off the fence. “Sorry!” he apologized for his singer and then, he forced him to leave with him.

This man will drive him _crazy_.

*** * ***

Snafu took a big gulp of his bottle of water and left it behind the amplifier. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. His naked chest glistened under the lights of the stage. The dark makeup around his eyes was now all smeared. He looked like he was going straight to war. But the eyeshadow always made the green of his eyes really stand out.

As he returned to the center of the stage, Jay began to play a new bassline. He added it to the song during those weeks. A little touch of bass always made a song better. Snafu said: “Give it up for Jay De L'Eau on the bass guitar, everybody.”

And they _screamed_.

Jay grinned, somehow cocky and juvenile at the same time. People loved that Hellish child. He mastered the art of chewing gum and blowing bubbles while performing on stage.

“Can you believe it? We had the terrible luck to get the _only_ bassist with a personality.” he sighed. Jay chuckled and the audience cheered once again. “You might not recognize this, by now. We released this song recently. Now it's better.” Snafu looked at Burgie from the corner of his eyes. He looked pleased that he finally admitted it. _In public_. “This is _3:16_ , let's keep the scandal goin'!”

“ _Keep your eyes on me, Cher._ _This cup is not full, yet._ ” the reaction was instantaneous. They were one lucky crowd. This was the first time this song was performed live. And fully finished. Snafu held the wire of the mic close to his hip. “ _Let me taste your wine._ _He can't see you now._ ” he raised a finger towards the sky and grinned.

Eugene, who had the terrible luck of having to perform right after Chasing The Pacific, was in the backstage. That was the last song they would sign and of course it had to be the one that was, supposedly, about _him_. Or about _his song_. Snafu was doing that on purpose. To shame him in front of those that came to see them play.

Their team was still there, supervising that everything would go well until the very end. And Eugene could see their performance on one of the many screens they had in there. The small frown only became more evident when Leckie said that the song was way better than the version they released a couple of weeks ago.

He felt like he lost a battle.

Eugene licked his lips and looked down, with his whole face on fire, when Snafu fell on his knees, bearing his weight over his free hand and rolling his hips and singing: “ _Get on the floor, open up to me. God comes second, let me have you first. At this hour of the night there's nothing left to confess._ ”

No need to do that. _Truly_.

But that was his style, right? Make a show. The more obscene, the better.

Eugene turned to Leckie and cleared his throat to get his attention. Sid was still looking at the screen and frowning, both confused and perhaps also taking ideas for things to try in the bedroom with Mary as soon as he would be back home.

“Could you start the show for me?” Eugene asked.

“Why?” the older man tilted his head.

“I am not sure I am not going to have a panic attack right there after _this_.”

Leckie parted his lips and as he saw Snafu act like contortionist while moaning/singing, he knew that he couldn't comfort Eugene. “Alright. No problem.”

“Okay. Thank you.” And then, Eugene kept himself away from everybody in there, with his eyes closed and breathing evenly, just waiting until it would end. His cheeks matched the color of his hair and he already started to sweat around his temples.

When the audience exploded into one big roaring applause, he opened his eyes and brushed his hair a little bit and made sure that his shirt was perfectly smooth. _Okay_. It was fine. No one would laugh at him. They wouldn't _boo_ them. They were here because they wanted to hear them too. And Snafu didn't have the power to make people think differently about him because of a song. It would be fine.

Eugene stepped forward and took a deep breath.

First he saw Leyden, taking his soaked shirt off. Burgie gave his roadies his guitar as Jay chatted with him. Snafu was still grinning and looking at the stage as he showed up in the backstage. When he turned his head and saw Eugene, he grinned even wider: “We left them warm and ready for you, boy.”

“What the Hell was that.” Eugene couldn't help himself, stepping forward.

“That's called stage presence, Red, I'll let you borrow some, next time.” Snafu hummed, always witty. Always quick enough to reply with sarcasm or a cruel joke. Eugene hated him. He hated his wild curls, now moist the closer you got to his scalp, wild and perhaps even a little tangled. He hated the fact he was only wearing some black leather trousers. And those didn't have a proper zipper. Just poorly tied laces that only needed a light tug to come undone. Thankfully, they were tight enough for not be depending on that. He would have ended up naked right on stage. Eugene forced himself to think that the white stripes on the outside of his legs didn't make him look any taller. Or that he could use some platforms instead of being barefoot.

He _hated_ him so much.

“Is this a public humiliation?” Eugene raised his chin a little bit, willing to take advantage of the small height difference.

Snafu could have told him that it was his way of saying that he thought he was gorgeous and a incredible artist. And that he surely wouldn't mind to have sex with him. It was pretty clear, right? He followed his mother's advice, after all.

“A _confession_ , maybe.” Snafu replied, his eyes big and focused on him.

Eugene frowned a little bit and asked. “A confession of what?”

Snafu parted his lips. He literally wrote a song that could not be more explicit. Well. Sure. He could say _sit on my cock and bounce until your legs don't work anymore_. But he'd be _repeating_ lyrics. He decided that it had to be a joke, he chuckled and patted Eugene's waist. “See ya later, boy, you'll do pretty fuckin' great.”

Eugene barely no time to add anything before Snafu left.

*** * ***

They didn't hate him.

And if they did, they pretended good enough. They screamed when he stood in front of the microphone and put his guitar over his right shoulder. Leckie was the one that introduced the show before he started playing. Maybe Eugene found some comfort in the fact that they all sang along to _Sunday_. That song would always be his. No matter what. No matter if Snafu felt like twisting it and making fit his perverse style.

They played about ten songs and the final cover. They usually sang _Losing My Religion_ , by R.E.M, because it was one of Eugene and Sid's favourite songs. And that night, perhaps it didn't have so much the intention to show the desperate love that might not be reciprocated. More like he was losing his temper, by saying too much and too little at the same time while someone else kept playing around in front of him, without consequences.

Could he be any clearer?

“Come on. Let's take a shower and have a couple of drinks.” Sid grinned, patting Eugene's back.

For once, he decided that Sid had a good idea. Eugene started to drink, and drink and _drink_. At some point, he even got lost and kept drinking some more. And it was just his bad luck that while he kept trying to walk towards the next bar, he found Snafu himself leaning against a brick wall, like the whole building would fall as soon as he would step forward. He hated him and his so... stupidly called sex appeal. Give him a break, he exudes sex and Eugene was tired of feeling conflicted because he was destroying everything and he still felt a little bit attracted to him. Maybe that was the alcohol talking. Maybe not.

He walked straight towards him. Or as straight as he could, since he started to sway two beers ago. “Hey, you!”

Snafu grinned as he did before when he saw him. He would always be _delighted_ to see Sledge. Boston was truly giving him what he wanted. “Sledge. C'mere, boy. Talk to me for a little while.”

Eugene hated that he sounded so smooth when he was so mad. “I heard your fucking song.” of course he did. Snafu saw him when he got off the stage. “And I hate it. It's so bad.”

“First let me tell you that I love it when you say fuck.” Snafu continued to smile, resting his head against the wall behind him. His hand rested over Eugene's waist. Skinny boy with barely a decent ass but quite a lovely waist. He didn't need a perfect man. Sledge was just _ideal_. “And it's not a bad song. You are just mad at me.”

“Right _fuck_ yes, I am!” he slurred. “You just made a song about wanting God to have your sloppy minutes! What's wrong with you?! That's _blasphemy_!”

“Sloppy _seconds_.” Snafu chuckled, delighted. Ah, look at that clueless drunk boy. He was endearing. “It's called sloppy seconds. And I don't think the old man could give you more than that.”

Eugene looked pretty damn serious when he pointed at his face with a finger. “God created the fucking world in a week, He has more stamina than you do _by far_.”

“You believe that?” Snafu steadied him a little bit with the hand he kept on his waist.

“Fuck, no. Dinosaurs are very much real.” Eugene sighed and leaned more against him, a little tired and not doing too great not losing his balance. “I'm kind of a scientist, you know? An orni... orhni... horni...”

“A _hornithologist_?” Snafu snorted.

“Without the horny, but yeah...” Eugene nodded. “I went to college and everything.”

“I bet you get the horny, sometimes.” Snafu hummed and brushed his thumb over the curve of his body. “I know. I read your Wikipedia page.”

“Are you a fan of mine, now?” Eugene grinned, now, cocky and raising his chin as he did before in the backstage.

“Yeah, pretty much. Enough to make songs about you.” for some reason that sounded very charming in Eugene's head. So he scooted a little closer once again. Snafu wrapped his arm around him. “You ever had anyone?” he couldn't help himself but ask. Eugene was drunk and Snafu was not the kind of bastard to take advantage of the situation. But he could get some information out of it.

“I'm twenty-nine.” Eugene frowned a little a bit.

“There are people of twenty-nine that never had anyone, Sledge. Never hurts to ask, huh?”

“I had a boyfriend in college.” Eugene decided to answer either way. “Rob. It was so _boring_.” he would have _never_ said that while being sober.

“Boring, why?” Snafu had to keep asking. Far too tempting to stop.

“We always did the same thing. It was nice. But not thrilling. Or surprising. Didn't help I was not out.” he said as he leaned his head heavily against Snafu's shoulder, feeling tired.

“Maybe he was not the one. And neither that was the moment.” he rubbed his back, smoothly.

“It will never be.” Not now that so many people could find out. He was still insecure. He was still constantly scared.

“You don't know that.” he patted his back. “C'mon. I'll help you get to your hotel. You look exhausted.”

“You vandalized my song.” Eugene mumbled before Snafu tried to find a taxi.

“I _sure_ did.”

Eugene could see his bright smile. _What an idiot_.

*** * ***

He woke up the following morning with a terrible headache. Eugene groaned and laid on his back, absolutely defeated. The first thing he did was check his phone and hope to God that no one took pictures of him once again and uploaded them. Eddie didn't text him. Or Sid. Or Leckie. In fact, it was him who texted those three the same message:

 **You sent at 4:21 AM:** _i arrived to my hotel safe and sound. i'm wasted. see you tomorrow._

Eugene didn't recall doing that. He only remembered seeing Snafu and then... Not much more than that. Thankfully, that had been part of a bad dream and nothing else. He kept going through his texts and saw that he also had another open conversation with a phone he didn't quite save yet.

 **You sent at 4:23 AM:** _i texted myself from your phone. this is my number. text me sometime?_

 **You sent at 4:23 AM:** _it's Snafu_

 **You sent at 4:23 AM:** _don't freak out because nothing happened._

 **You sent at 4:24 AM:** _but might!_

 **You sent at 4:24 AM:** _see ya in barcelona, red ❤️❤️_

“Oh, my _fucking_ God, no.” Eugene groaned before he dropped his phone right on his forehead.

**PRIMAVERA SOUND, JUNE 2016**

“We look more like a loud family than a rock band.” Leyden sighed, looking around all the suitcases surrounding them while Romie did the check in at the hotel. Surely the staff knew English if they worked there, but letting one of them do it for them in Spanish was simply easier.

“Ain't nobody louder than you in here, Bill Leyden.” Snafu said, balancing Burgie's son, Little Jack, over his hip as Lou kept petting and smooching his chubby cheeks. The little boy, who was only five years old, giggled and grinned the more she did so.

Leyden blew him a kiss and he snorted, focusing once again on the little boy. “Little Jack over here is the only one who gets me. Such silly boys, huh?” he grinned.

The kid rested his head against his shoulder and Snafu couldn't help himself, pressing a kiss against the crown of his head, over his golden curls. It was well known that as soon as Little Jack would be around, Snafu would take the official role of being the babysitter. Each time they had to fly or go to some place that would offer them a good weather and experience, Florence usually joined her husband. Snafu meet Florence forty days after he met Burgie. She has been around since the beginning and it would be far too strange to think about his guitarist without her.

“Watch your mouth in front of my kid.” Burgie warned him, keeping himself close to Romie even if he didn't speak the language.

“Gimme your first son, already.”

“ _No_.”

“You will have another one, soon.” Snafu pointed at Florence stomach, that was not so obvious, _yet_.

“I'm not giving you _anything_.”

“Florence, you are a reasonable woman. Gimme your first born.”

“What do you offer?” she grinned, raising her eyebrows.

“I'll take you to Dollywood.” Florence, a girl from Merlbourne that was obsessed with Dolly Parton. That was simply _delirious_ to Snafu. Just like it was the first time they took her to see the living legend and she couldn't stop crying.

“Sold!” she gasped, right away.

“ _Florence_!”

“Oh, right.” she waved her hand before she lowered her voice: “We make business once he's gone.”

Snafu winked at her.

“Let me hold him for a little while.” Lou asked, rubbing Little Jack's back.

“Absolutely not.” Snafu turned away from her. “He's mine.”

“You are so selfish, Merry.” she pressed her lips and put her hands on her waist.

“You want a child? Have one yourself. Romero over there is desperate to impregnate you.” from his spot he could see Romie growing nervous and rubbing the back of his neck, hoping to God to not get any sort of atenttion or being held accountable for that.

“You are so _nasty_.” she huffed.

“My Maman wants you to get married and I want you to have kids. Make us proud, Lulu.” she was technically not his cousin but they were practically raised in the very same household. Snafu learned from a very young age that blood is not always thicker than water.

“If I get pregnant I won't be able to go on tour with you. And who will make you all pretty?”

“I surely don't need it, but I don't think they can say the same...” Jay was always there, listening, ready to say something sassy.

“You still look like you are twelve, Jay.” Snafu huffed.

“ _Sixteen_ , if you don't mind.”

And it was only normal that he grew curious and interested when he heard other people speaking in English. Snafu turned his head a little bit and saw The Old Breed entering inside of the lobby lead by their manager. Ack Ack, who had been supervising Romie and chatting with Burgie once he stopped arguing with Snafu over Little Jack's custody, stepped forward shook hands with Eddie. Snafu felt a gentle pressure against his ribs. Lou was nudging his side with her elbow, grinning.

“Your lover boy.” she grinned.

He bumped his hip against hers to get her out of his way. Little Jack made sure to bury his face on the crook of Snafu's neck, far too shy to interact with strangers.

“Funny meeting you here, Red.” he grinned, always delighted to see him.

“You knew we would play here.” Eugene mumbled, thinking about the texts Snafu left on his phone. He had the same ashamed attitude he had when Snafu pretended to be his audience during the soundcheck in Boston. The redhead needed a couple of seconds to look up at him.

Snafu was practically a chameleon. He looked so different from the man he saw after his concert. He was not wearing leather trousers but sweatpants. This time his chest was covered by a light and old t-shirt. The sneakers didn't look all that new, either. The hair was the only thing slightly similar: untamed and curly as usual.

But perhaps the most different thing was the attitude. Now was trying to seduce a crowd. He was rubbing the back of a shy kid who did his best to hide himself away from Eugene. He felt like he knew nothing about this Snafu, because unlike the other one, this didn't look like a complete _asshole_. Maybe he felt intrigued. Maybe he wanted to get to know this one. Or maybe not. He would be unable to deal with the fact that he could be attracted to that part of him, as well.

“You didn't text me.” And funny enough, it didn't sound like he was hurt or angry. Casual. Snafu needed plenty of time to sound careless when he was pretty damn worried about the fact that he decided to let Eugene know about his number and that the younger man decided to not use it. _Rejected_.

“I was busy.” Eugene was not lying, but he wasn't _that_ busy.

“Right.” Snafu nodded. _Absolutely rejected_.

“I've been... We've been very busy. Eddie could tell you that. I'm not lying.”

“I'm not sayin' that you are.”

“Okay, because I'm not.” Eugene nodded, clearing his throat. And then, he was stupid enough to not let the issue die when he added: “You didn't text me either.”

“Didn't feel fair, boy. You didn't give me your number willingly. _I_ did.”

Okay. That was far more decent of him than he could have expected from someone who wanted to cuckold God, Himself.

“Thank you for... Helping me go back to my hotel. That was... _Nice_.” Eugene has always been a fair person. Or he liked to think. He felt like he had to like them.

“No problem.” Snafu denied.

“Alright...” Eugene rubbed the side of his nose and looked around. Everybody was talking and stressing the staff of the hotel. It didn't feel like he could escape this situation. “You brought plenty of people with you.”

“Yeah. Uh...” Snafu turned a little bit. “The brunette that won't stop looking at us over there is my cousin, Lulu. That over there is her boyfriend, Romie. And that's Burgie's wife, Florence.” he had no shame in point every single one of them. “And this” he bounced the kid, making him smile. “is their son.” he kissed his cheek. “Say hello to Eugene, Little Jack.”

Little Jack turned his head a little bit to look at Eugene. He waved his hand and Eugene thought it was beyond adorable. He smiled and approached the kid, pointing at his shirt. “Pluto is your favourite?” the little boy nodded. “He's my favourite too!” He had a weakness for dogs. It was known.

*** * ***

Snafu told him that they planned to stay in the city for a few days. Eugene said that he would be leaving tomorrow morning. The following months would be insane for the both of them. Summer is always more complicated than you'd think. Not that Eugene wanted to match any date. Neither Snafu looked like he cared. Both of them were _pretending_.

“When do you play?” Snafu asked, stopping by the door of his room. Number 39. Eugene didn't know why, but he wanted to keep it in mind.

“In three hours.” Eugene replied. They should had been here since last night, but they had a bit of a problem. Eugene didn't even want to think about it. It still pissed him off. “Why? You want to be there?” he joked a little bit.

“I would. But I promised Little Jack I would go with him and his parents to the beach.” it would sound like a bland excuse if it wasn't for the fact that Eugene saw him moments ago with the little boy like he was his own uncle.

“Maybe next time.” Eugene nodded a little bit. “One person less among the crowd, a little less pressure.”

“You are fuckin' dynamite, Red. You ain't got nothin' to be scared of.”

Eugene smiled and looked away. _Charming_. “Not all of us know how to put on a show.”

“If you ever did, I'm sure you'd leave me _breathless_.” there was so much honesty in Snafu's voice, that Eugene almost wanted to prove him right and ask him if he could get inside of his room with him.

He didn't have enough time.

“Yeah, you don't know that.” Eugene looked at him once again.

“A man can dream.” he smirked once again. “We play at nine. Are you busy?”

Eugene shook his head.

“Come and watch me, then.” it didn't sound like an order, but neither like a suggestion.

Eugene nodded a little bit. “I'll be there.”

Why did he even change his mind? This was still the man that made fun of him on Twitter and of his song in public.

*** * ***

Of course, Eugene was not among the audience. They would have crushed him. Worse if they recognized him. He didn't like crowded spaces too much. Sometimes it became a little harder to breathe. So, he decided that being a little bit far was a fair consequence for not wanting to go through a nasty episode of anxiety.

Chasing The Pacific was a little bit late. But that's fine. Builds expectation. Surely they knew how to start a gig. Eugene could think many things about Snafu —all of them far more confusing each time—, but they've been playing for eleven years. They give you experience either you want it or not. And they were a very good band while playing live.

Not as good as his band was. They killed it this morning and he would have wanted Snafu to see that. Either if it was to brag and remind him that he couldn't put his fingers on his songs or just because he wanted to be praised by the man once again. Conflicting feelings. A constant in his life.

Everything faded to black and people began to scream. Eugene felt nervous like he never felt before. He has seen the man before, from close. And he saw him perform. And not only once. Ever since Boston Calling, Eugene watched every single performance and video that he could find on YouTube. It was insane how someone could make such intimate attitudes something you'd love to see in public. Eugene couldn't even manage to imagine himself acting like that on stage. He would look like a complete _idiot_.

“ _This is an invitation you can't decline_.” Snafu began to sing, the only light on the stage right above him, making the edges of his jaw and his nose even sharper. His eyes looked even far more expressive if possible: his long eyelashes proyecting a long shadow over his cheeks. “ _You just gotta keep in mind, find me at Room 39_.”

And anyone would think that Snafu fucked up the lyrics during the first fifteen seconds of the song. And Eugene would have thought the same if it wasn't for the fact that he memorized that Snafu's room back at the hotel was the _number_ _39_.

He was going to make this very hard on him from the very beginning, wasn't he? That's why he wanted him there. Either to... make fun of him. Or to truly send an invitation. The truth was that Snafu was willing to use a whole concert to court Eugene. Now _that_ was making an effort to seduce someone.

Snafu kept saying _Room 39_ instead of _Room 29_ during the whole song, to not let Eugene forget about it. The frontman was trusting his word. Eugene said he would there, and he had to believe him. He was putting on a show for him, hoping that the redhead, being far more self-conscious, would reward him with something far more pivate.

“Not a bad way to start, huh?” Snafu grinned, always _charismatic_. That word he seemed to despise so much. Like it took away all his talent and effort into becoming a good vocalist. Eugene told he was lucky to be there. He was truly changing his mind, wasn't he? He must be so _easy_. “Felt like changin' the song a little. Bet Burgie ain't that happy it, huh?”

It would take far more than that for Burgie to talk on stage. That was not his style. He did flip him off, though.

Snafu smirked: “Told ya. But you all love it when I _misbehave_ , don't you?” he practically purred. His eyelids grew heavier, revealing a golden eyeshadow, this time. It rimmed his whole eyes, just to make that green look irresistible. His stylist must be clever and aware of Snafu's assets because it matched the color of his makeup with golden glitter scarcely smeared around his neck, shoulders and chest, making him _glow_ under those lights _only_ when they hit him right. _Teasing_. Who could say _no_ to that?

They loved him. They loved him and they let him know by getting loud and effusive. Eugene rubbed his lips with his fingers and nibbled his nails. He breathed deeply. How could someone be so natural on stage? Snafu's personality must be... impressive. Addictive. He only played one song and Eugene was already _fascinated_. He had more than half an hour to end up desperate to go back to his room as he suggested. He knew where to find him.

From _Room 29_ to _Peach_. _Peach_ that was, perhaps, the most obvious song about cunnilingus Eugene has ever heard in his life — _part those legs, it's time to get our lips all wet_ , was just a subtle example—. And Eugene wouldn't have felt all that surprised if Snafu wrote that song. A common misconception, considering that it was Burgie who decided that the act itself was important enough to write and sing a song about it.

Then came _No Man_ , _Désolé_  —and while Eugene didn't know French he could tell that was a tough one to sing live—, _Crush_ and then... _Baby Baby Baby_. It was one of Eugene's favourites. When he bought those three albums, Eugene found himself playing that one the most. Maybe it was because the sexual vibe on that song was not as aggressive as the others. It was smooth and somehow sweet. A little begging from someone who was far too use to command _and_ demand. Eugene had to smile when Snafu sang “ _Oh, baby baby baby, why you gotta be so mean? Oh, baby baby baby, I would help you see so clear._ ” changing his voice a little bit to make it resemble the imitation Eugene made of him a couple of months ago when he was _rabid_ during that radio interview.

Maybe they remembered as well, because they laughed and cheered and Eugene didn't take it as a humilliation. More like a small reference between the both of them that was shared with everybody else.

Finally, the new ones: _August_ and _Loud_ were good. _Yours_ was simply better. That's why it named the whole album. But Eugene was expecting for something else. Something that came out recently and that, at first, was an attack to him and his music. Now? Now he was not very sure what that was. Snafu had that marvelous skill to be... enchanting. Or maybe Eugene was truly not as firm as he used to be. He was getting older and softer. By the time he turns 30, he will be _putty_.

“So this is a new song that bet you all heard a few times, before. You are killin' it on SoundCloud, huh? Don't worry about it, I still like free stuff, too. Once cheap, always cheap.” Snafu wiped the sweat off his chest and forehead. The glitter stayed. “We'll make an effort. Play it a little better for you all.”

And then began playing the bassline, that the more you listened to it, the easier it was to remember. Eugene was sure he could copy the sound with a light hum. “ _Keep your eyes on me, Red.”_ there he was, fucking up the words on purpose _once again_ to let Eugene know that all he wanted was to get him alone. Why? They barely knew each other. And when he knew about Snafu was the worst part of him: how insufferable and rude he could get. Then why he started to feel more and more attracted to him? Eugene caressed his collarbones and played with the collar of his shirt, wanting to get rid off his clothes. _“_ _This cup is not full, yet. Let me taste your wine._ _He can't see you now._ ”

It was impossible to keep his eyes away from Snafu. He was quickly on both screens framing the stage. Big and long, they showed his face and his chest. It had a good definition, he could see thin rivulets of sweat moving quickly down towards his stomach. This was all about sex, wasn't it? The camera simply had to offer what they were wanting to deliver. It panned down and showed his fingers pressing his flesh, finally moving all they way down to his trousers, hooking his thumb over the belt loop. The trousers were made of black leather, just like back in Boston. The only difference was the they had no stripes and very visible golden zipper.

Eugene looked away for his well-being and fanned himself with one of his hands. It was hot in this country. Mediterranean weather. That's all.

By the time the song ended, Eugene's skin was on fire. His shirt was glued to his chest and his arms kept trying to hold something inside of his chest that was about to come out and explode. Maybe he should be clever about this. Maybe he just should... Have fun, too. Snafu truly looked like he was having a great time being unapologetically sexual in public. Maybe he could... Let loose. Like Snafu told Luz in that first interview.

The band thanked them for being a wonderful audience and Eugene left before he could be seen. The last thing he needed was to feed the lingering scandal (that thankfully died down and he didn't have to answer the speculations of being in relationship _lately_ ) was being seeing in that concert. In his way to the hotel, Eugene typed, with nervous fingers, chewing his lower lip, not knowing if that was wise or not. Truth to be told, he was horny. And maybe that was enough. Maybe that was all it took.

 **You sent at 9:53 PM:** _That was a good show._

 _There_. That was not incriminatory. It could be just... An artist flattering another artist. Nothing out of place. Nothing that could be used against him. Eugene failed to see that no one was judging him. But the fact that it took twenty minutes for Snafu to answer the text made him feel insecure. Like a fool. He felt like he was some sort of teenager who just confessed a bit too much. He didn't have a crush on Snafu. He only thought he was handsome. And talented. And that was... logical. And enough. And he was not going to think about it any longer.

He decided to take a shower to get rid off the sweat and the arousal that clinged to him during the gig. As he stepped out of the shower, he saw that Snafu texted him twice.

 **Merriell Shelton (Snafu) replied at 10:13 PM:** _come to my room_.

 **Merriell Shelton (Snafu) replied at 10:14 PM:** _please?_

Maybe some of that excitation bleed into his flesh. Maybe he couldn't wash it away anymore. That foolish thought and one single water drop that fell from his moist hair, following the long line of his spine made him answer:

 **You sent at 10:26 PM:** _You are already there?_

Eugene started to towel his hair with his eyes focused on his phone.

 **Merriell Shelton (Snafu) replied at 10:31 PM:** _gimme forty minutes and i'll be_.

 **You sent at 10:31 PM:** _Okay_.

Watch him make one terrible mistake.

*** * ***

Eugene decided to give him a little more time.

If he knocked at his door after exactly forty minutes, he will look like he is desperate.

He is not.

He is just... _curious_.

He was allowed to be curious. After Rob, he never had anyone showing any sort of interest in him. And if they did, Eugene ignored them. But ignoring Snafu was simply impossible. It's like... Well. It's an odd sight. You couldn't look away and you couldn't help yourself.

He was twenty-nine. He was allowed to live a little. He should before a few more years pass by and he starts regretting.

Eugene took a deep breath and knocked at the door.

Snafu opened the door right away. His hair was still a little moist and decided that if a shirt was not necessary for being in public, neither it was in the privacy of his hotel room. After noticing that he was wearing the same sweapants as that morning, Eugene denied that he was overdressed. No need to wear a belt or nice shoes.

He had a few things to learn about this type of _meeting_. Eugene shifted a little bit and said: “Hi.”

“Hey.” Snafu replied.

And then Eugene didn't know what to say anymore. Surely he will think he was _so_ interesting.

“C'mere.” Snafu grabbed his forearm, squeezing lightly and pulling him forward, towards him. He smelled good. Like soap. He closed the door with his other hand.

“I'm not...” Eugene began, not knowing how to say it. _I am not easy_. But he was, wasn't he? Less than two months ago he wanted to kill him. He bumps into him while being drunk, says things he doesn't even remember and everything changes. Why?

“Wanna get to know you.” Snafu replied, looking at him in the eye. His thumb brushed right over the vein of his forearm, over the most delicate part of his skin. “That alright?”

Eugene nodded.

“Come.” he stepped back and pulled him once again. Eugene followed him with devotion back to the couch in the corner of his room. There was light and soft music playing. At least silence won't be a problem. “Sit.” he offered. “Wanna drink anythin'?”

Eugene shook his head this time, not wanting to make a fool out of himself once again. Snafu joined him on the couch and wrapped an arm over the back of it. He could feel his fingers lightly resting close to his arm.

“I know you are an ornithologist. And that you had a boring boyfriend. _Rob_.” Snafu grinned a little bit. For some reason it didn't feel like he was teasing him. “And that you can only say _fuck_ while being drunk.”

“I can say it when I'm sober, too. I try not to.” Eugene replied.

“You were taught not to?” Snafu tilted his head.

Eugene nodded. He was told to not say many things. “My mother was pretty strict.”

“The good kind or the bad kind?”

He felt like he couldn't answer that question. He shrugged a little bit.

“What about your father?” Snafu tried once again.

“He died.” Eugene mumbled. Before Snafu could apologize —or not—, he added: “It's alright. He was good. _Understanding_.” that was the word he liked the most when he spoke about him. Eugene turned his head to look at him. Snafu smiled briefly. “Yours?”

“I don't have one.” he denied. “Never got to meet him. He left my Maman before she got to tell him.” he shrugged. “Better like that, he can't come back now that I've got some cash.” he raised his hand and brushed Eugene's hair, lightly.

“I bet she's very proud of you.” Eugene's voice lowered without him even noticing.

“She is. She has little to be proud of, though.”

“Not everybody makes it.”

“Gotta be pretty charismatic, huh?”

“ _Talented_.” Eugene corrected him.

Snafu smiled a little wider, fondly. The back of his fingers touched Eugene's cheek. His eyelashes flickered when he could feel his knuckles over his skin. “I had many problems, y'know? Feels fair to let you know.”

“What kind?” Eugene asked, letting him enjoy the curve of his jaw.

“The worst one will always be my addiction to cocaine.” Snafu's voice was calm. Eugene was in the same industry as he was. And he knew how easy things could get when you had the money and talked people who _knew_ people. “Not anymore. Been clean for almost three years.”

“No doubt she is proud of you.” he cupped his hand and pressed it once again against his cheek. Snafu moved slightly closer. Eugene closed his eyes, feeling like it would be easier to speak like that. “I changed my mind about you and I don't even know why.” the answer was easy: Snafu was slowly becoming human to Eugene's eyes. He wasn't only a bad interview or a nasty tweet. He was a man who was capable to act like a dickhead but also walk someone he barely knew back to his hotel or hold a child tenderly against his chest. He was also capable of beating an addiction and dedicating him a whole concert.

And he barely knew him.

Eugene knew himself, if he decided to find out more about him, he will be _lost_. Snafu will manage to capture his heart and his very soul.

“It's my _magnetism_ , boy. No one can resist me.” Snafu joked a little bit.

“Should I worry someone else might take my spot if I leave too early?” he whispered, raising his eyes to look at him once again.

“ _No_.” Snafu leaned in. “Not tryna trick you. Haven't had anyone for a while.” Eugene didn't want to ask for how long. It truly didn't matter.

Or maybe it did. Because this didn't make _any_ sense. He never felt such attraction for anyone, before. He never felt like he couldn't resist someone. Love was not delirious. Nor was lust. Not to Eugene who always lived everything with secrecy and fear. Honesty barely had place in his desires and now, in front of the other man, he was the one overdressed and still feeling so exposed.

It didn't make any sense and he still said: “Kiss me, then.”

Snafu didn't question him or made any sort of remark. Either to say that he was doing the right thing or that he was easily convinced. It didn't matter what he thought. They both wanted the same. Then why not enjoy it? He pressed his lips against Eugene's, kissing him slowly and kindly. The redhead tilted his head to the side, parting his lips lightly and pursing them. His hands rested over Snafu's sides, feeling the ondulations of his ribs over his skin. Snafu broke the contact to kiss him with a new angle as his fingers pressed and massaged against his neck and the back of head, to calm him down. To soothe him if there was anything left to fear.

He got to touch his tongue with his own and that made Eugene want to lean forward. He did so, wrapping his arms around him. Snafu kissed his lips and then his cheeks and his forehead. He nibbled his earlobe and Eugene exhaled, heavily.

“We can stop whenever you want to.” he reminded him.

“ _No_.” Eugene answered.

Snafu thought that his voice was _delicious_.

*** * ***

Eugene blinked rapidly, trying to get his hair off his eyes. His forehead was covered in a thin layer of sweat that made his locks look a little darker than usual. With one of his hands, he could manage to brush them away, quickly, before he pressed his palm once again against the headboard. His arms were rigid, they couldn't become any weaker or his head with suffer the consequences of Snafu's energetic pace against the headboard. He curled his fingers against the metallic vines and licked his gasping lips, squeezing his eyes shut before he bit his lip to swallow another moan. Eugene rested the crown of his head against the back of his hands and began to push back each time Snafu bucked his hips forward.

He could feel his chest right behind his back. His heart was hammering against his left shoulder blade and ticked his skin. The older man wouldn't stop kissing and nipping the back of Eugene's neck and his shoulder, leaving little and reddish marks that could or could not become a couple of shades darker the following morning. There was no doubt, though, that he would be feeling a dull ache over his hips as soon as he would wear his belt. Snafu's fingers were tight against the thin flesh, his knuckles all white. At some point he even crossed his forearms over his chest and there was no way Eugene could move. But that was when he praised him — _you are so fuckin' beautiful, look at you, fuckin' Hell, this can't be real, so good and so open for me_ — and Eugene forgave him everything.

Now, he was speeding up. Snafu's stomach was on fire because of the effort and the fact that he was desperate to come. But he was forcing himself to last. This might never happen again. And if it does, God knows _when_. As soon as he saw Eugene moving one of his hands between his legs to hold his erection, he stopped him, holding his wrist. Eugene let out a light whimper, turning his head a little bit, about to ask for an explanation.

“Not yet, not yet.” Snafu panted, heavily, practically begging. He pressed more kisses against his scalp and the nape of his neck. “Let me have you a little more. _Please_.”

Eugene didn't feel like he could say no. He also wanted to stretch this as much as he could. He returned his hand to the headboard, forcing his own heart to calm down. He couldn't lie to himself. This was an _after_ situation. He couldn't just have this once and _never_ want it anymore.

“Okay.” he breathed, nodding. Eugene tried to hold Snafu's hand against his hip once again but he moved back completely. As he slipped off him, Eugene had to squeeze his eyes shut to not whimper at the loss. When he opened them once again, Snafu was sitting down close to him, now with his back against the headboard.

Eugene parted his lips and tilted his head a little bit. Snafu looked at him with tender and insecure eyes. It was such a strange look on him. He was just as _real_ as the deviant on stage. Maybe more. “Come...” he whispered and held his wrist once again, pulling gently. He wrapped his arm around his waist as Eugene straddled his lap. Snafu guided him back inside of him once again and Eugene sighed.

Snafu brushed his hair away from his forehead, all the way back. Eugene felt a little self-conscious. He always thought that such hairstyle would make his nose look bigger. He had the instinct to move one of his hands towards it, trying to hide it, but Snafu stopped him once again. He kissed the bridge of his nose and called him _beautiful_. Then, he rested his forehead against Eugene's throat, holding him tight against his body and breathing him in. Eugene thought that he never saw anyone trying to seek affection from someone else in such an obvious way. He wrapped his arms around Snafu and caressed his hair. He kissed his temples and his curls; he wanted to offer pleasure and protection. Needing one last effort from his thighs, Eugene began move up and down, slow and hoping for the best. He never tried that before.

It couldn't be bad when Snafu started to moan against his neck and encouraging him: “That's it, Red, c'mon...”

“ _Merriell_.” he sighed.

Snafu smiled against the skin of his neck.

*** * ***

Eugene dressed up in silence. As he did the buttons of his shirt, he noticed that some of the glitter Snafu wore for the his gig the night before was now over his chest and his back. And there was nothing he could do to get rid off it. Thankfully, his clothes covered enough and there was no evidence that could be used against him.

Once he was done, he sat down by the edge of the bed. He could tolerate the discomfort. It didn't hurt, but it had been a while since the last time he had sex. “Snafu” he called, softly, caressing his arm. The man was still sleeping on his stomach. It was only six in the morning. “Wake up, I have to leave.” he insisted resting his hand over his back. Eugene didn't want to leave while he slept. He didn't want him to think this didn't matter to him. It did. It... It felt good. And he liked it. That _should_ be enough to want to repeat, right?

Snafu sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Mhmmm?” he hummed, sleepy. Eugene couldn't help but smile a little bit.

“I have to take a plane in three hours. I'm leaving.” Eugene explained him: quick and easy so his drowsy mind would get the message.

“So soon?” he finally asked. Eugene nodded as he felt Snafu's palm against his thigh. “Okay, then...”

It was like he wanted to say something and he didn't know how. Eugene could relate to that feeling so well. That's why he kissed his cheek, soft and sweet. “I'll text you. I promise.” he would, this time. He wanted to.

Snafu nodded and smiled a little bit. He shifted and squeezed his knee. He kissed him one last time before he walked out of his room.

*** * ***

He texted him and he _called_ him.

At first it was a little bit strange. He didn't tell either Leckie or Eddie. He didn't even tell Sid and he was his best friend. But by now, he wanted to enjoy whatever this was all by himself. He wanted the privacy and knowing that he kept the words Snafu said to him like a treasure. Sometimes it was just a foolish game in which Snafu spoke until Eugene had to ask him to shut up because he was either foolish or far too nasty. Either way, Eugene always did so while chuckling or huffing. He no longer felt mad at him. And when Snafu sang _3:16_ through the phone, he smiled and felt shivers down his spine. The insecurity of not knowing if he was teasing him disappeared.

So did the feeling that he vandalized his song.

He felt like a complete _idiot_ for ever saying that.

During a disgustingly warm afternoon during mid August, Eugene said: “I'm writing a song.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yup.” Eugene replied, playing with a pen.

“What about?”

“I think it's a little unfair you got to write about me, and I didn't get to do that.”

“So you are writin' me a song.”

“A bit of a stretch, but... _Maybe_.”

“How is it called? _Crazy motherfucker, get away from me_?”

“How did you know?”

Snafu snorted. “Yeah, play all clever and sassy, boy. Love it anyway.” a small silence before he added: “Tell me, though.”

“No way.” he surely didn't mind having the upper hand here and there.

“I'll be free in two weeks. Tell me when and where you are gonna play the song and I'll be there.”

“You are insane.” Eugene shook his head, smiling.

“Breakin' news.”

Eugene smiled even wider. “What about Berlin?”

“A little fair, isn't it? You gotta make it good now, Red.”

“No worries, it will be better than yours for sure.”

**LOLLAPALOOZA, SEPTEMBER 2016**

“Are you sure you want to play the new song?” Sid asked when Eugene approached him, leaving his guitar aside.

Eugene nodded. They rehearsed it plenty of times. He made sure to convince the other two to not release it. Leckie had his back saying that it was _risky_ and that it was _nice to see Eugene stop stressing out_. He would have taken it as an offense but he was far too happy to get annoyed at anything, lately. Sid knew he missed something, but Eugene wouldn't tell him.

He would find out sooner or later.

“Are you two okay with that?” Eugene asked, just in case. He was, in no way, going to force them to do something they didn't want to.

“I am.” Leckie nodded right away.

“I mean... It's a good song.” Sid ended up nodding. “Alright. Come on!” he said as he convinced himself as he stepped away from the keyboards and grabbed the guitar he only used during three songs out of ten.

Eugene walked back to the mic without the instrument he often used as a shield. It was easier to sing when he felt there was something between the audience and him. But he wanted them to see him, now. He wanted Snafu, who already was among them, to see him. “We would usually sing _Losing My Religion_ and leave, but... I think we are going to change things a bit.” it was always a little strange to speak to them. “Hope you will like our new song. This is _Corinthians_.”

They might have done the right thing, the crowd replied properly and slowly quieted down when Eugene turned and nodded at Leckie so they would start playing.

Snafu, not very far from there and with a perfect view of the redhead, smiled. Of course. Of course he would name his song _Corinthians_. He was claiming back the passage, wasn't he? Snafu raised his sunglasses and left them over the top of his head, crossing his arms. He couldn't look away from the stage, not when the boy was making such an effort. He wanted plenty of live concerts of his to know that Eugene was practically one with his guitar.

Now his hands were over the microphone, delicate as usual. Such lovely fingers. Such lovely voice as he started to sing a song that had so much truth in it: “ _I never minded being on my own, this temple is yet to be defiled. But then I heard your voice, preaching to the crowd_ _and making the angels want to look around._ _There's so much I'm missing out._ ” And through that song, Eugene was also trying to understand his own feelings.

How he managed to go from complete rage to something quite similar to adoration.

“ _But how hard it is to resist your glowing skin?_ _You want to find shelter in me? Come to my welcoming arms,_ _we'll both start singing our secret psalms._ ” Snafu would never be able to say that Eugene was not a good singer. They were different. Eugene was not the kind to put on a show like Snafu did. And perhaps there was no need. His style was different. He fucking despised to think he looked a little bit ethereal, but of course he did when he managed to turn a _one-night stand_ into something almost _divine_.

“ _Saturdays nights and Sundays mornings,_ _pacific winds are shaking the roof over my head. Pale columns that can't possibly keep standing,_ _when you look at me with those pleading eyes._ ” Eugene's eyes moved among the heads and he could not find him. But he didn't need to see him to know his song would end up reaching him. He closed them for a moment, to force himself to stay calm and control his voice, trying to deliver his best vocals. This was the first time singing one of the best song he has written so far. He should do it some justice.

As Eugene began to sing the chorus for the song time, recalling Snafu's glowing skin and until the night when they moaned practically into each others skin, making the melody so intimate, Snafu couldn't stop thinking about it. Truth to be told, he has been unable to stop thinking about Eugene ever since he first saw him that cover of The Doors. A man in his thirties was not supposed to have crushes.

But how could be not be absolutely smitten when Eugene sang: “ _From miles away, any man is a false idol,_ _it's your spirit that I truly want. There's no humiliation in honesty,_ _can't help but listen to my heart._ ” So does that mean he liked him a little bit? Must be that. He didn't leave while he was sleeping and he texted and _called_ him. Willingly. Because he wanted to. Maybe Eugene truly liked him a little bit.

And that was pretty fucking insane to Snafu. Because he knew he made all the wrong moves —bitch about him during an interview, pester him through Twitter and then make a nasty song about his holy hymn—, and he still managed to get what he wanted.

He must be one lucky bastard. No other explanation.

Eugene sang the chorus one last time, caressing the microphone stand and gripping it. Snafu grinned and allowed his mind to fly somewhere else and turn plastic into flesh and skin.

He exhaled lightly and stepped back. He did it. The music trailed off and Sid played the very last chords with the guitar. Eugene had to smile when they screamed and clapped. He looked over his shoulder at the two other members from The Old Breed. Leckie bit his tongue as he grinned and Sid raised his eyebrows, with a bright smile on his lips.

Eugene turned to face the crowd once again and nodded a little bit. Snafu put his fingers on his mouth and whistled really loud.

His boy was _amazing_. Plain and simple.

*** * ***

“I've truly missed something, haven't I?” Sid squinted his eyes as soon as he saw Snafu leaning against Eugene's door.

“Keep walkin', blondie, ain't nothin' in here for you.” Snafu pointed behind with his thumb.

Sid was about to say something crude when Leckie wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “Children not allowed.” he patted Snafu's arm, as a quick greeting. Snafu returned the gesture by briefly clapping his back. His eyes were already on Eugene.

“Been asking about me?” he couldn't help but ask. Neither he could hide his smile.

“Just a little.” Snafu was already reaching out for him. He held onto his waist and made him stand closer to him. Eugene turned his head a little bit when Snafu tried to kiss him. “Gettin' shy?” Snafu smiled at him. His eyes were shinning with pure adoration. “After literally singin' about ridin' me in front of a fuckton of people?” he would always be mischievous. And so would be his smirk.

“It was so obvious?” Eugene asked as he opened his door as Snafu pressed his lips against his neck, kissing and nibbling on his skin.

“ _Pale columns that can't possibly keep standing, when you look at me with those pleading eyes_. And _finding shelter in you_? Gotta be about that.” he hummed, chuckling and stepping forward as they made it inside of the room. Snafu closed the door with his foot.

Eugene turned and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, kissing him properly. It was _stupid_. Absolutely stupid this felt so normal. Snafu kissed him many times over his lips even if Eugene couldn't help himself and started to chuckle. He didn't recall feeling that kind joy with Rob. God bless him, he really hoped he was doing well.

“You liked it?” Eugene asked as Snafu pressed another kiss against his chin, this time.

“Loved it. But get ready for some _speculation_.” Snafu hummed, caressing Eugene's back with the palm of his hands.

Eugene parted his lips and then closed his mouth. “... _Fuck_.”

It was lovely to hear him curse. And show that he was not as perfect as he hoped to be. Snafu laughed and shook his head. “You foolish boy. You truly didn't think about _that_?”

“Well... Uh. No. Not really, no... I mean. Could be about anything...” he whispered, before he closed his eyes and cursed one last time, silent and quick.

“Not about anythin'. You wrote what you wrote.”

“... You are a terrible influence on me.” Eugene sighed mournfully.

“Been told, but hey...” he made them sway a little bit. “So you won't stress about it... I have a proposition, huh? You can say no, Red.” Snafu began to talk, sounding a little insecure. “I mean. I've been home for a week now and I was thinkin'... Maybe you wanna come with me? For a few days? You ain't got much to do after this and my Maman really wants to get to meet you so... Y'know, if you want...?”

“You are being serious, right now?” Eugene mumbled, surprised.

“...Yeah. It's a suggestion, for fuck's sake, no need to _overreact_.” Snafu grumbled, looking away. “It's not even my idea, so... Like...”

“Yes.” Eugene cut him.

“Huh?” Snafu swallowed.

“Yes. I'd like to go with you.” Eugene repeated. “And meet your mother. Could be _fun_.”

None of this made sense, so why _try_ be reasonable, at this point?

 

**Author's Note:**

> can u believe eugene went from 'i'm pure like jesus h christ himself' to singing 'i am a power bottom, move' in public? #wild.  
> anyway, find me at [persipneiwrites.tumblr.com](https://persipneiwrites.tumblr.com/) (worst blog ever!!). i have posted some edits about this story in there.


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